Race in Reverse
by Roxy Rosee
Summary: With Rick bloody and raving in the middle of the street, everyone is relieved when Daryl intervenes. But no one is more surprised than Rick when the quiet compassion and loyalty the archer had always been known for very abruptly bleeds away into something aggressive and commanding. Maybe this is exactly what Rick needs. Maybe he has no idea what the hell he's gotten himself into.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Me? You-" Rick cut himself off with a laugh. Incredulous, hysterical. "You mean- you mean _me_?"

His lips split into the cracked smile of a man at his breaking point. "Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's already gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. I'm not gonna stand by-"

" _Rick._ " said a voice like glass shattering, sharp and lethal. It cut through the mess of Rick's mind, and his words choked in his throat.

The Alexandrians were silent, watching the man with the leather vest who most had avoided the last few weeks slowly approach. He stepped out from behind Deanna, moving towards Rick's kneeling form with the steady ferocity of a tornado nipping its way towards the ground. The gun still dangled from Rick's fingers, forgotten from the moment those icy blue eyes locked onto his.

Daryl stopped in front of him, held out his hand. "Give it to me."

It took Rick a moment to realize to what Daryl was referring. A moment where he couldn't help but lick his lips, and consider his position, kneeling before his best friend. But Rick didn't hesitate. He handed over the gun, maintaining Daryl's fierce gaze.

"Stand up."

It was not a request. And Rick obeyed without thinking, coming to his feet shakily and clenching his hands in fists. He moved as if to sidestep Daryl, eyes flicking towards Deanna briefly, but the archer immediately cut him off.

" _No,_ " Daryl growled, more animal than man. It was the first time Rick had heard that tone out of him. It was dominating, bit through him like an icy chill but thrilled him all the same.

And even though Rick wanted to stoke the flames of his angry heart- shout in Daryl's face that _this was not how they did things_ and _how fucking dare he_ \- Rick did nothing of the sort. He blinked. Allowed Daryl to trap him in his gaze, acute eyes seeming to track his every thought. Their audience melted into the background, until all Rick knew was Daryl's broad form crowding into his space.

"You're gonna go back to the house. And you're gonna wait for me there," Daryl drawled, soft and slow.

The archer's fingers twitched, wary for the first sign of defiance. But even as rage and madness pressed at the seams of Rick's soul, Daryl's words pushed every thought of resistance back from whence it came. A weight lifted off his chest, and Rick took a long, full breath.

Then Rick nodded, abruptly, and the cogs of his mind finally fell into place. He turned on his heel and headed straight for the house, keeping his eyes trained on the ground and focusing only on the searing sensation of Daryl's gaze on his back.

Daryl watched until Rick rounded the corner. He held out the gun to the Alexandrians' leader in the most nonthreatening way he could manage.

"Here," he rasped, face still stony. " _That…_ that there won't happen again. M'takin' care of it."

It was the most he'd said to her since they'd arrived, and the ex-congresswoman seemed to recognize the significance. She nodded gratefully, and began to shoo the onlookers away.

Daryl started on Rick's trail, stopping only to mutter in Michonne's ear, "Keep everyone clear of the house for the next few hours. Clear of the whole damn block would be better, but I'll take what I can get."

She murmured her assent, if not her understanding, and relayed the message to the rest of their people. When she turned back to question just what Daryl planned to do, the archer was already gone.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl walked through the front door of the house and found Rick hovering in the center of the kitchen. He was wiping compulsively at the blood on his shirt, and looked as if he might vibrate out of his skin.

"You didn't need to do that," were the first words out of RIck's mouth, "I had it under control."

Daryl didn't respond. But as Rick watched, he slowly pulled off his crossbow and set it down on the counter. His hunting knife came next, left parallel to his quiver, arranged with care.

"You risked our chance here…" Daryl said slowly, venomously quiet, "You risked your _kid's_ chance at someplace safe...for what? To get your dick wet?"

He'd crowded into Rick's space again, eyes predatory and hard. The ex-Sheriff tried, but failed, to recollect a single time Daryl had spoken to him with such calm, sexual aggression. In fact, he couldn't remember a time he and Daryl had even talked _around_ the concept of sex, let alone tackled it directly.

"Yeah," Daryl murmured, making a slow circle around Rick's prone body. "That's exactly why you did it, huh Rick? Knocked your own kid to the ground 'cuz ya couldn't wait one more minute 'fore gettin' laid."

Rick was stunned, breathless; watching Daryl out of his periphery and so thrown by the entire situation that all he could do was stare.

"What did you think was gonna happen, man?" Daryl asked him. "You'd beat that guy to death in front of everyone. And then, what? Take Jessie right there in the street? Bet that's what you wanted. Wanted to fuck her in front of everyone. Had to bring your fuckin' dick into it, show 'em who's boss-"

Rick swung at Daryl before his mind had registered the flash of rage. And even quicker than that, Daryl had grabbed him by the wrist and spun him around, forcing him to his knees.

The ex-Sheriff let out a startled grunt, trying once to break free. But Daryl had one arm twisted around his back painfully, and the other pinned underneath the same bicep that could load a 150-lb. draw bow in three seconds flat.

Rick hung his head and panted.

"You think I wanna hurt you, man?" Daryl growled, flexing his arms around RIck's body just to prove he could. "What the hell are you doin' to yourself?"

The older man simply shook his head at the ground, trying to beat back the growing ball of heat settling in his stomach. This couldn't happen. Not _now._

"This has to stop, Rick," Daryl rasped in his ear. "Your people need you. Your _kids_ need you. And you can't go flyin' off the deep end…"

Daryl trailed off, eyes finally travelling far enough down Rick's torso to understand why the other man had so abruptly gone lax in his arms.

"The fuck?" Daryl whispered, awestruck and confused but not nearly as disgusted as Rick had expected. The archer released him suddenly, and Rick stumbled to his feet, grasping the counter for support and refusing to turn around.

The silence went on too long. Rick darted for the front door. "M'sorry," he gasped, "Jesus, m'sorry, I-"

Daryl shoved him back hard, pinning him to the countertop.

"Did I say we were done?" Daryl spat. Rick's voice caught in his throat and his cock twitched noticeably. He swallowed hard as Daryl eyed him up and down. "That's what you need, huh?" Daryl finally assessed. "Need someone to make it hurt. Take the rest away."

Rick flushed and continued to shake his head, more out of humiliation than denial. Back at the prison, and even on the road the winter before, the older man had figured that one day he'd be found out. Eyes on Daryl just a beat too long, expression too heated for friendship, and the archer would read it all over him.

But now his hand had been forced.

Rick sucked in a shuddering breath. "Need it to be you," he muttered towards the floor.

Daryl squinted at him and ran his fingers through the scruff on his chin.

"That's what you want," Daryl said slowly, appraising him. And when Rick didn't answer, _couldn't_ answer, "Hey- _look at me._ "

Rick finally met his eyes, cheeks flushed, shame-faced. Daryl moved in closer still.

"You know what you're askin' for, Rick?"

Rick nodded, even though he was beginning to believe that he _didn't_ know, not with the way Daryl's pupils had blown into deep navy pools, utterly fixed on him.

"Please."

A sharp wheeze was startled from the ex-Sheriff's chest as his body was manipulated without his consent. Rick's face was pressed up against the cool granite of the island, and one of Daryl's hands was at the back of his neck, holding him steady, bending him to his will. Rick blinked his eyes open and stared out the front window of the house at the empty street. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans.

"The- the window," Rick rasped, hardly able to form words. "Someone could see."

Daryl smirked to himself. Their house was the last inhabited one on the block, and none of their people would be coming down this way for another hour or two, at least. He could have told Rick just that, and settled his nerves. Instead, Daryl replied, "Let 'em."

The archer grabbed ahold of Rick by either wrist and placed his hands palm-down on the counter. He stepped back to survey his handiwork, nodding in satisfaction when Rick stayed exactly as Daryl had arranged him. There was a click as Daryl flicked open Rick's belt, whisking it off of his body and folding it seamlessly into one hand.

Daryl ran the leather down the length of Rick's back, watching the man shiver.

"Ain't holdin' you here," Daryl said pointedly, providing one last chance for his friend to change his mind. But the man bent over the island didn't move a muscle.

Without Daryl's touch, Rick felt vulnerable. Alone and drifting. He closed his eyes.

"What do you think I'm gonna do?" Daryl asked from somewhere behind him. "You think I'm gonna hurt you?"

There was an edge to Daryl's rasp that made the hairs on Rick's arms stand on end. But he couldn't predict where Daryl was going with this, couldn't predict much at all about the archer, apparently. Rick shuddered, but stayed silent.

"Know you've seen the scars," Daryl continued quietly, "Never wanted ya to, but ya have. S'that why it's gotta be me? Ya figured I'd want to hurt you? Figured I'm the guy who'd know how?"

" _No._ " Rick asserted, voice too sharp and rough to be anything but the truth.

"Why, then?" Daryl asked lowly, "Why's it gotta be me?"

"Because…" Rick swallowed hard, "Because I trust you. Because I wanted it to be you. Since- since-" But Rick couldn't say it. Couldn't admit just how long he'd been watching Daryl with feelings that were a lot more than friendly.

To Rick's immense relief, Daryl ignored the latter part of his statement.

"You trust me," Daryl repeated, shaking his head, "But I'm not the only one you trust."

Rick found it in him to look back at Daryl over his shoulder. "Yes. You are." _The only one I'd trust with this. The only one I'd ever let see me this raw. The only one I could give myself away to, and know I was in good hands._ He could see the conflict in Daryl's knitted brow. That, and something much darker. Rick hoped to God it was lust.

Daryl's fist tightened around the belt. And before Rick had gathered the wherewithal to brace himself, the leather strap came down hard against the fleshy part of his ass. The constable jolted forwards with a gasp, fingers clenching against the smooth surface of the counter. There was a rush of air, and another harsh crack. Then, another.

One of Daryl's hands seized Rick's shoulder, while the other brought down the belt against Rick's body in a steady rhythm. Fleetingly, Rick considered that he knew much less about Daryl than he'd thought. The archer wielded his belt like it was the most natural thing in the world, muscle memory that couldn't be faked.

More than that, it was clear that this confident aggression had been idling inside Daryl all along. He could have been the group's leader. Could have bent Rick to his will, and whipped the others into line. Instead, the archer had _elected_ to follow Rick's lead. Shown him loyalty and obedience when he was more than capable of the opposite. And now that same man, powerful in a way Rick had never fully realized, had the ex-Sheriff shuddering and panting at his hand.

"God," Rick groaned at a particularly brutal strike. He could hardly disentangle the sting and burn of each lash from the steady, blissful throb of his neglected length. It was an amalgam of overwhelming sensation that he never would have expected to want, let alone need. But each slap was bringing Rick closer to something bright and hot that he couldn't quite put his finger on. More than release. Freedom, maybe.

"Daryl," Rick moaned, feeling his cock rubbing hot and heavy against the rough denim of his jeans. Knowing that he couldn't stop himself if he tried. "Daryl. _Daryl. Daryl…._ " He chanted the man's name like a prayer, only realizing much later that what he was really asking for was permission.

The hits were coming harder, faster. Rick tensed every muscle of his body, _desperate_ , trying-

"G'wan, Rick," Daryl said, molten honey dripping from his tongue. "Let go. S'okay, I want you to."

With a moan much too high-pitched for Rick to claim as his own, the ex-Sheriff came like it was being punched out of him. He shot off in his jeans, soaking the fabric and writhing helplessly against the countertop. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. There was nothing but overpowering relief, and the catharsis of having Daryl wring all the anger and tension right out of him.

Still bent over the island at the center of the kitchen, it took Rick several long minutes to realize that Daryl's fingers were carding through his hair. Soft, gentle.

"Did good, Rick," Daryl was telling him quietly, with something like affection in his voice. "Just breathe, now, you're alright. Did so good for me."

It was easily the longest Daryl had ever touched him of his own volition. Rick allowed the younger man to help him stand up straight, and turn his body to face him. He couldn't quite meet Daryl's eyes, but was relieved nonetheless when he noticed the clear outline of the younger man's erection through his cargos.

The archer stepped between Rick's legs, and dragged his thumb feather-light over the dark patch at the crotch of the ex-Sheriff's jeans.

"Made a mess of yourself," Daryl drawled, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "Ain't much of a punishment if ya go and enjoy it like that."

Rick's cheeks flared searing hot.

"Never figured you the type," Daryl continued, but Rick thought he seemed downright pleased.

"I didn't know I was," Rick finally replied. "Maybe...maybe just with you."

Daryl nodded slowly, "Nothin' wrong with that." He said it in a way that made it okay, and Rick let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Daryl jerked his head towards the back of the house. "Get upstairs, then. Ain't gonna want an audience for what comes next."

Rick's eyes went wide, mouth dropping open at what Daryl was implying.

"What, ya thought I was done with you?" Daryl asked him lowly, eyes going dark again, "Thought you'd get off _that_ easy, after the shit you pulled today?"

"What-" Rick floundered, "What are you going to-?"

"Did I say you could talk?" Daryl cut him off, voice taking on that sharp quality that made Rick's body thrum. The constable's mouth fell shut, and Daryl grinned. "That's more like it. Now, you're gonna go upstairs and get into the shower. Get the _come_ off of ya. The _blood_ off of ya. And in a while, I'm gonna come up there and join ya, and we'll see 'bout that punishment of yours. Clear?"

There was only one thing Daryl wanted to hear out of Rick's mouth at the moment. And when he heard it, he had to sink his teeth into his lower lip to keep from bending Rick back over the kitchen counter and taking him right then and there.

"Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Ok, I heard y'all loud and clear. I'm continuing!**_

 **Chapter Two**

Rick let the shower stall steam up until he could barely see his hand in front of his face. White and red had already swirled its way off his body and down the drain, but the ex-Sheriff couldn't bring himself to move. Reality had come crashing down on him as soon as Daryl was out of his sight, making his stomach churn in equal parts anxiety and excitement.

Of all the fantasies he'd entertained of what he and Daryl getting together might look like, what had happened downstairs was so far off base that Rick felt like he was spinning. Could he submit to Daryl this way? Did he want to, _need_ to, as the archer had so brazenly claimed? Decidedly yes, or he never would have obeyed the other man's orders to come upstairs to begin with.

But then there was the more troubling possibility that all Daryl wanted out of him was sex. After years of pining away after this man, and so many angst-ridden months of trying to deny his feelings, Rick wasn't sure he could handle that particular kind of rejection. Accepting his body, but nothing else. For fuck's sake, he was _in love_ with Daryl, and had been for a while. Trying to pretend anything else would be torture.

Then again, Daryl hadn't seemed entirely disconnected from what they'd done earlier. Certainly not unaffected. Rick rubbed his knuckles over the place where his beard should have been. Then, a thought occurred to him that had him turning off the water and stepping out of the shower without hesitation.

 _When it came to Daryl Dixon, Rick would take what he could get_.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The archer was waiting for him patiently, sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room and methodically cleaning every inch of his bow. Rick stopped in the open doorway, still dripping, with a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight of Daryl sauntering towards him with dark eyes had that towel tenting in no time.

"Bet you feel better now," Daryl murmured, taking Rick apart with his smoldering stare. Daryl dipped his fingers under the edge of the towel, and tugged just hard enough for the thin fabric to go fluttering to the floor.

The archer made a circuit around Rick's body, inspecting him. And Rick had to fight the urge to cover himself up again, hide from Daryl's fierce gaze.

When Daryl stopped in front of him, Rick dug his nails into his palms and took a chance.

"Can I kiss you?"

Daryl's eyes flicked up to Rick's, one eyebrow quirked in surprise.

"Now why would ya wanna do a thing like that, Rick?"

 _Because I love you._

Rick beat back the instinct to cross his arms over his middle protectively. "Please." That word had worked wonders earlier. Maybe it was exactly what Daryl needed to hear.

A fraction of a second later, Daryl had him pinned to the wall by both arms, and Rick could have laughed at how right he'd been. Daryl's mouth was like something out of the pornos he'd hidden from his parents as a teen. Plump lips, sharp teeth and strong tongue that consumed him the same way they might a juicy strawberry or tart apple.

Even though the fabric of Daryl's pants was rough against his skin, Rick couldn't help but rut against him. Daryl nipped at his lip none too gently, and Rick moaned into his mouth, arms twitching against the other man's hold out of instinct more than resistance. As quickly as it had happened, it was over. Daryl stepped back from him, leaving Rick panting and slumped against the wall.

"Can't have you ruining a second pair of pants today. 'Specially a pair that ain't yours," Daryl said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Get on the bed. Hands and knees."

Rick couldn't help but hesitate a moment, still unused to following orders. But one hard look from Daryl and Rick was tripping his way over to the California King, raising himself up on trembling limbs.

"You're nervous," Daryl said. His voice was closer than Rick had expected.

"No reason to be," Rick replied, trying to sound sure of himself.

He heard Daryl huff something like a laugh. "Plenty reason to be," Daryl disagreed. He grazed rough fingertips over the curve of Rick's ass, watching the older man shiver. "Think I'm just gonna pound into ya like some kinda animal?" Daryl asked him.

Rick shook his head mutely, leaning into Daryl's touch.

"Normally ya use a safe word for somethin' like this," Daryl told him, still dragging his fingers up and down Rick's body. "And if ya still want this, after tonight-"

"I will," Rick said immediately.

"Right, 'course you will," Daryl laughed. "You want it bad. Never woulda thought…" He shook his head to clear it. "But that's tomorrow. Tonight you're gonna do what I say when I say it, and fuckin' thank me after. That clear?"

"Yes," Rick whispered, clenching his eyes shut as his cock twitched and jerked where it hung.

" _No_ ain't in your vocabulary. Not tonight," Daryl said roughly. He moved behind Rick and dragged a long middle finger down the crack of his ass. "But I ain't gonna hurt you, Rick. Not the way you're thinking."

"You don't know what I'm thinking," Rick replied petulantly, a little breathless.

Daryl laughed again, a sound Rick wanted to bottle up. "Man, I always know what you're thinkin'. And right now, you figure gettin' punished means gettin' hit. Probably hopin' I'll go at you with that belt again. But s'obvious enough from the way you came in your fuckin' shorts earlier that that ain't punishment at all."

Rick flushed anew at the memory, and pushed back against Daryl in invitation. Daryl's hand left him, briefly, and when it returned it was slicked up and teasing at his hole. There was no time to consider how Daryl had managed that so quickly, or where the hell he'd gotten the lube to begin with, before Daryl's free hand had crept up to Rick's shoulder.

"Fuck!" Rick gasped, as the archer shoved him roughly back onto his finger. Rick clenched up hard at the intrusion, more out of shock than pain.

"I'd say I was sorry, but…" Daryl murmured, clearly trying to bite back a laugh. His moved his finger slowly in and out, urging Rick to relax. "You're tight as hell, Rick. First time with somethin' inside you, I'm bettin'. You like it?"

Rick wriggled backwards against Daryl's hand. The initial burn had been dull, but quickly given way to something much more powerful. The drag of Daryl's finger felt _good_ above all else, and so much more intense when coupled with the realization that no one had ever touched Rick this way before. The ex-Sheriff was willing to bet that no one else would again.

"Yes," Rick whispered in answer to Daryl's question, "Fuck…"

"Ask me for another."

Rick jerked his head back to look at Daryl over his shoulder. The archer was watching him with an expression that screamed _hunger_.

"You heard me," Daryl rasped, "Tell me you want another finger inside of ya. Tell me ya need it."

Rick let out a low whimper and let his head hang between his shoulders. "I want another," he breathed out, "I...I n-need it."

"Yeah, I know you do," Daryl praised him lowly, before slipping another finger into Rick's tight heat. He scissored his fingers gently, using his free hand to slowly stroke at the small of Rick's back. "Shit. S'been ages since I was with a virgin," Daryl groaned, mostly to himself.

"Hey! I'm not-!" Rick started to protest, but immediately cut himself off with a moan when Daryl did _something_ with his fingers that made Rick's entire body throb.

"Oh god. Fuck. _Fuck_ …" Rick moaned. And he wanted to ask Daryl just _what the hell that was_ , but every time the archer pressed over that spot, Rick's vision whited out entirely.

"Ain't that a pretty sight," Daryl murmured as he watched Rick's cock twitch and leak onto the bedspread.

Rick could only sob in response, pushing himself back onto Daryl's long fingers in desperate little movements. Daryl pulled away from him abruptly, and Rick let out an embarrassingly needy whimper.

"C'mere," Daryl rasped, and Rick did as he said, moving to the end of the bed and looking up at the archer with wide, lust-drunk eyes. Daryl palmed over his cock through his pants. "You want this?" he asked Rick.

"Yes." Rick's mouth was dry. But he was sure. So fucking sure.

"On your knees, then."

Rick knelt in front of Daryl without question, and licked his lips compulsively as the younger man jerked open his fly. The archer shimmied out of his cargos in a smooth movement, like a snake shedding its skin. His vest came next, shrugged off and thrown towards the chair in the corner. When his flannel shirt had been shucked as well, Rick couldn't help but stare.

Daryl was _beautiful_ , the most beautiful fucking thing he'd ever seen. The muscles of his chest and arms strained underneath his skin, still golden from the Georgia sun. His cock stretched up towards his belly button, long and thick and begging to be touched. Rick reached out towards him, mesmerized, only to have his hand immediately slapped away.

"Only part of you I want touchin' me is your mouth," Daryl growled, threading his fingers into Rick's curly locks.

The older man nodded breathlessly, and with Daryl guiding him, leaned forward to give the archer's cock a tentative lick. When the taste was far from overpowering, Rick moved back in eagerly, lapping his way over the swollen head and all the way down the shaft.

"That's it," Daryl murmured, finally sounding a little breathless himself. "Put it in your mouth, now. G'wan."

Rick obeyed happily, lowering his mouth as far down Daryl's cock as he could and letting the younger man hold him there. The ex-Sheriff hadn't given head before, but he'd received enough to know what felt good. And with Daryl directing him, praising Rick for every flick and swirl of his tongue, Rick was fairly certain he was enjoying this just as much as Daryl was.

It was easy, blissful even, to let Daryl take control from there. The unbridled heat in Daryl's indigo eyes coupled with the feel of the archer's fist tugging at Rick's hair had the ex-Sheriff precariously close to losing it again.

"Fuck, Rick…" Daryl groaned, "You fuckin' love this, huh? Love havin' my cock in your mouth."

Rick moaned around Daryl's length in agreement, prompting the man above him to buck his hips unwittingly. He swallowed around Daryl's throbbing member, and the archer let out a moan that made Rick's toes curl.

"Gonna come down your throat," Daryl told him, voice gravelly and thick, "That's what you want, right? Wanna make me come? Wanna feel me shootin' off in that pretty mouth of yours?"

Rick wasn't willing to risk pulling away to answer. So instead, he redoubled his efforts, moving his mouth hard and fast over Daryl's cock and writhing his tongue along the thick vein underneath.

"Fuck," Daryl grunted, hips twitching with the barest restraint. He rubbed a thumb over Rick's cheek. "Look at me."

Rick did, blue eyes darting up to meet a near-identical pair, expression open and earnest and _wanting_.

"Fuck," Daryl groaned again, holding Rick's gaze. "Fuck, _yes_ …"

And then Daryl was coming with a groan from deep in his chest, pumping his length into Rick's mouth, and watching the other man's eyes tear as he swallowed. Daryl's shoulders heaved as he released himself down Rick's throat. His fingers tightened in Rick's hair, face opening up into something raw and abandoned and downright sinful. It was sensory overload, and Rick couldn't hold back. His hand darted down to his own length, and it only took two firm tugs before he was spilling at Daryl's feet.

Whatever bliss Rick had seen grace Daryl's features vanished in an instant. He pulled himself carefully away from Rick's mouth, then cuffed the man roughly and held him by the ear, jerking his head backwards painfully.

"What the fuck makes you think you can come without my say so?" Daryl growled. There wasn't an ounce of playfulness left in his voice. Rick thought he could hear a twinge of something more sinister than anger.

Before Rick could identify it, he was being thrown face down onto the bed. Daryl's hands left him, but it took the ex-Sheriff a few seconds to recover. When he did, the archer was back, flipping him onto his back and heaving his arms above his head. Rick barely registered the click of metal before one wrist had been fixed to the bannister with his discarded belt from earlier.

"Wait. Wait, Daryl-" Rick tried as the opposite hand was bound into place, with Daryl's belt this time. He pulled at his restraints blindly, feeling his heart rate pick up in honest fear for the first time in ages.

Daryl knelt between his legs, then moved forwards, pulling Rick up across his lap, and effectively bending the constable in half. It was only then that Rick realized the younger man was brandishing something in his hand. Something black and C-shaped and bulbous, with a motor at the end.

Rick knew he was still slick from before. He wasn't sure if Daryl recognized that as well, or simply didn't care. But it only took one firm shove for the toy to breach his tensed pucker, bottoming out inside of him in a rough, jarring movement.

"Daryl!" Rick cried out, desperate. The toy was a hell of a lot thicker than the archer's fingers, and longer too, already pressing up against the spot that had made Rick sob and writhe earlier.

The ex-Sheriff heard a click as a switch was flicked, and a low hum filled the room. His body seized up in shock.

 _Too much,_ were the only words Rick's brain could produce. His body was oversensitive, already thrumming and fucked out. This new sensation, vibrations so intense they made his entire lower body shake, was more than he could handle.

"I'm sorry!" Rick gasped, body jerking and writhing helplessly to escape. "I didn't mean to. Didn't mean to, I swear. _Please._ "

"You meant to," Daryl replied curtly, and Rick could only sob.

"M'sorry," Rick babbled, feeling a fresh flash of shame when his eyes began to leak tears. "I won't do it again. Won't ever do it again, I promise."

"Damn right you won't. 'Cuz this," Daryl said, tugging over Rick's half-hard and tender cock, and making the man mew in agony. "This is _mine._ I fucking own it. And if you think you can play with it whenever ya goddamn please, you've got another thing coming."

The ex-Sheriff shook his head from side to side with eyes clenched shut and hands fisted.

"Told you I didn't need to hurt you to punish you, Rick," Daryl drawled, eyes going a little bit glassy as he watched the older man buck and keen weakly.

Rick blinked his eyes open to lock on the hunters, still red-rimmed and wet.

"I'm sorry," Rick said, softer this time, while fighting to keep his body still. "I- I didn't know. D-didn't think. But...it's too much. Please, it's too much. D- _Daryl…_ "

The archer's expression softened a degree.

"Need you to be good for me, Rick," Daryl told him with a tone gentler than Rick had ever heard him. "Show me you can take it. Just a little while longer. Just ride it out a little longer, and it's gonna start feelin' good."

Rick nodded through his tears, biting at his lower lip to stay sane. Daryl allowed Rick's legs to slump, wrapping more comfortably around the younger man's waist.

"That's it," Daryl praised lowly when Rick finally began to calm. His body had gone abruptly numb, caught in between pain and pleasure, and unsure of which way to fall. Daryl stroked his thumbs over each of Rick's cheeks, shooing away any lingering wetness. The archer soothed him gently, grazing his hands up and down Rick's sides, right up until the point that the ex-Sheriff's eyes shot open in confusion.

"There ya go," Daryl murmured, watching fixedly as Rick's body began to curl in on itself again, cock hardening slowly against his stomach. The archer left Rick writhing on the bed to cross the room, and returned with a circular piece of rubber in one hand that for once, Rick had no problem identifying.

Rick didn't protest when Daryl fixed the cockring over the base of his shaft. He watched the younger man's face, rather than his hands, still trying to predict what the other man would do next. But even the feather-light brush of Daryl's knuckles against his oversensitive head was enough to make Rick gasp and thrust upwards hopefully.

"Look at ya," Daryl whispered, running the tips of his fingers over the insides of Rick's splayed thighs. He pressed his palm to the base of the vibrating plug and pressed, biting his lip hard when Rick couldn't help but thrust down against Daryl's hand greedily, desperate for friction. "Got any idea how fuckin' hot that is? Watchin' you lose it like this. Knowin' how bad you need me?"

" _Daryl_ ," Rick whimpered, when another rough thrust downwards pressed the end of the plug right up against his prostate. "Need you. _Please._ "

"I know you do," Daryl said softly, drawing his hand back.

He stood up, leaving Rick squirming and groaning at the center of the bed, and walked over to his discarded pile of clothes. It was only when Daryl was near fully-dressed again, pulling his vest over his shoulders, that Rick began to realize what was happening.

"Daryl, please…" Rick panted, hips canting up off the bed even as his stomach dropped in panic. "Don't leave. Please don't leave. _Please-_ "

"Calm down," Daryl drawled, making his way back towards him. He sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Rick's chest.

"Please don't. Daryl, _please_ -"

Rick's breaths were coming out in sobs again. The prospect of being abandoned after giving away so much of himself. Left tied down and humiliated. He couldn't take it; fuck, he wouldn't _survive_ it.

"Hey," Daryl murmured, taking Rick's chin in his hand and forcing the older man to meet his gaze. "You said you trusted me, before. That still true?"

Rick didn't have to stop and think about it. "Yes."

"Then listen close. I'm gonna go downstairs and have dinner with the rest of our people. Gonna tell them you're sleepin' off all the shit from today, and let 'em know that they ain't to come up here and bother ya. Once dinner's over, I'll come on back, and I'll take care of ya," Daryl told him, soft and slow. "Not leavin' you for good, Rick. I wouldn't do that to ya. Just for an hour or so."

"I don't- I don't think I can- please, Daryl, don't-"

"You need to learn to wait," Daryl cut him off, emphasizing each and every word. And even though his voice was harsh, his eyes were warm, and his hand had never stopped rubbing gently over Rick's chest. "Show me you can be good, Rick."

He wasn't sure he could do what Daryl was asking. But Rick was also positive that he didn't have a choice. The ex-Sheriff nodded slowly with his eyes closed.

"Good boy," Daryl drawled, running his thumb over Rick's cheek one last time. When Rick opened his eyes, Daryl was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Rick's body was on fire. He'd been on the brink of shattering to a million pieces for hours now. Or at least, it _felt_ like hours. The clock sitting on the bedside table had to be wrong, just _had_ to be, because there was no chance at all that the ex-Sheriff had been enduring this torture for fifty minutes alone.

Pleasure washed over him in intense waves that never quite crested. Rick realized early on that it was easier to take with a blank mind. He'd force his brain to empty itself out, body to go still, and remain that way for as long as he could manage. But then thought would come creeping back in. He was tied to a bed right now. Tied with the belt Daryl had used to spank him until he came. Tied and stuffed full, by _Daryl's_ doing, and-

His balls would draw up. Cock would twitch and jerk desperately, despite its constraints. But the sensation of a mind-blowing orgasm would be denied to him every time, leaving Rick hanging on the edge of something he wasn't entirely sure he'd survive.

Fifty-five minutes now, and Rick vowed he'd never do this again. He'd get Daryl back for it, cause the man the same pain and humiliation, and make goddamn sure-

Sixty minutes and Rick wondered morosely if Daryl was coming back at all. Rick deserved it, _knew_ he deserved it. The constable was well aware that he never should have lost control without Daryl's say so. Not after seeing what Daryl had been bottling up for so long. But Rick knew better now. He'd _be_ better next time, be whatever Daryl wanted, and-

Sixty-five minutes and thoughts of Daryl fucking his mouth were pushing Rick to the brink again, making his aching length jump and leak against his navel. He fucking _loved_ that man. Because nothing had ever felt like this before. No one had ever gotten him so raw, quieted his mind with force and allowed him to just feel.

It was too good. Too much. Too many things to feel at once, good and bad crowding his senses and making him whimper in pleasured agony. And god, god-

The doorknob turned.

Daryl slipped into the room without looking at him, closing the door swiftly in his wake. He didn't so much as cast a glance in Rick's direction as he walked past him and into the bathroom. Rick heard the telltale sound of the archer relieving himself. The rush of water in the sink. And he couldn't help the noises that were bubbling out of him now, ceaseless whimpers the likes of which only a wounded animal could make.

But he didn't say anything. Didn't beg. Daryl hadn't asked him to.

Finally, _finally_ , Daryl leaned against the bathroom doorway and took Rick in. His eyes lingered on the red, throbbing cock that had left a sticky trail below the ex-Sheriff's belly button. Daryl licked his lips, and Rick bit his to keep silent.

"Look at you," Daryl murmured, voice rough with something Rick couldn't identify. He strode forward and situated himself at the edge of the bed, sliding a hand down Rick's chest. "Been good for me, huh? Been a good boy?"

Rick understood that this time, he was expected to answer. "Yes." He had to bite his lip again to keep the pleas for release at bay.

And maybe Daryl saw that. Maybe he didn't like it one bit. Because the next thing Rick knew, Daryl's hand was traveling farther down his body, pointedly avoiding the place Rick needed it most, and pressing hard against the base of the vibrating plug.

Rick fucking _wailed_ , body arching up off the bed like some holy vision.

"Daryl," Rick moaned brokenly. Couldn't hold the words back any longer. "Please. Please let me come. I _can't_ anymore. And I waited. I waited for you. But please- _please_ , just let me- I'll do anything, Daryl, please-"

"Shh, I know," Daryl said. He moved in between Rick's legs and slowly pulled out the plug, flicking off the switch and discarding it.

"Ahh, please," Rick gasped out in little sobs, "Please. Please. _P-please_."

He stared as Daryl ran a single finger up the length of his dick, watching it twitch wildly.

"Ain't gonna take much," Daryl mused, and Rick could only nod. "Think you can hang on a little longer though. Wanna see you close."

"But I am. I _am_ ," Rick protested.

"Nah, not close enough," Daryl rasped. "These," he said, cupping Rick's balls in a grip that was barely there, but still had the ex-Sheriff writhing in agony. "Wanna see these nuts of yours draw up 'til they can't no more. Wanna see your whole body shake with it."

The archer made his way to either side of the bed and released Rick's hands. He slid in behind the older man, Rick's back to his chest, and rubbed gently at the marks the belts had left, helping blood to flow back to the already bruised skin.

"You felt it yet?" Daryl asked him, fingering at the rubber ring still digging into the base of Rick's cock. "Felt your whole body tense up, like it was finally gonna happen, only for this baby stop it in its tracks?"

"Yes," Rick breathed. He rubbed his face against Daryl's chest.

"How many times?"

"So many," Rick was quick to say, "Too many. Daryl, please-"

"That's enough of that, now. I'll tell ya when I wanna hear ya beg," Daryl cut him off. He pulled Rick's legs up so they were splayed over his, exposing him. "Was it just havin' somethin' inside ya that made ya feel like that? Pressin' up 'gainst your spot? Makin' ya feel so good?"

"Yes," Rick whispered, "But not...not just that…"

"What else then?" Daryl demanded.

"Was thinking…" Rick swallowed hard, "Was thinking about you. With the belt and...in my mouth...and tying me, touching me, god…"

And fuck, just _acknowledging_ it was too much. Rick's body went taut, balls drew up painfully, and his cock jumped and pulsed untouched. As the ex-Sheriff came down from it, still whimpering pathetically, Daryl let out a sound from behind him that Rick could only classify as a growl.

"Good boy," Daryl praised him, fingering over that ring again. "So good for me."

Slowly, so slowly, Daryl eased the ring off of Rick's cock, providing him with the least possible amount of contact as he did so.

"Had myself an idea of what I wanted to do with you," Daryl murmured, "Shame y'ain't got the stamina for it."

"I wanna do it," Rick offered immediately, "I'll do anything you want. Please, let me-"

"Shh, settle down" Daryl rumbled, rubbing his hands over the insides of Rick's thighs in slow circles, "I ain't mad. Seein' ya like this is plenty worth it. But I bet ya wanna know, huh Rick? Wanna hear all about what I was gonna do to you."

"Yes," Rick whispered, the only word he could possibly form under the circumstances.

Daryl massaged Rick's thighs, digging his knuckles into them expertly and pulling out all the lingering tension.

"If you'd been in better shape when I got back up here, I'd have made ya stand over by the window. Told ya to press your palms 'gainst the glass and keep 'em there. Don't deserve a hand on your dick. Not yours, and sure as hell not mine, after what you did earlier. For now, you're gonna keep your hands flat on the bed. Keep 'em there, or I swear to god Rick, I'll tie you up again and make you wait all night to get off," Daryl rasped.

Rick's fingers clenched against the bedspread, but he didn't dare move them, hardly dared to breathe.

"From there, I woulda put my fingers inside ya. Like this," Daryl murmured, slipping two digits into Rick's loosened entrance, but purposefully avoiding his prostate. Rick mewed in his lap, panting hard. "Woulda fucked you with my fingers, Rick. Fucked you until you screamed."

Daryl stilled his fingers, and Rick held his body static as stone, waiting, hoping.

"Look at you, being so good," Daryl whispered to him sweetly, "Can hardly take it anymore, I reckon. Am I right? You ready to come now?"

 _Don't beg_ , Rick reminded himself, _he told you not to beg_.

"Whatever you want," Rick replied brokenly, voice cracking in and out, "Whatever you want me to do."

Daryl pressed his nose to the side of Rick's neck in a way that could have been loving in different circumstances. But then teeth bit down ruthlessly, and Daryl sucked a mark into Rick's neck that would show for weeks. A shudder ripped through Rick's body, and he clung to the sheets for dear life, riding it out.

"That was the right fuckin' answer," Daryl growled against the shell of Rick's ear. His fingers crooked, pressing hard to Rick's prostate. "Alright, baby. Wantcha to come for me now. Say my name."

" _Daryl_ ," RIck gasped, grinding down on the archer's fingers and still trying to hold on, still not quite believing. But Daryl was having none of that. He fucked Rick hard with his fingers, pounding against his prostate. "Ahh, Daryl!"

Rick came like it was the first time. It _felt_ different than the orgasms he'd had in years prior, so much more intense and soul wrenching. It tore through him like a spark of electricity, making him bow up away from Daryl in angles he could only have dreamed of and forcing tremors through every muscle in his body. Rick came in streaks across his stomach, his chest, his lips. He came so hard and so long that it frightened him, left him shocked and bewildered that his body was capable of such a feat.

Rick came until he was utterly exhausted, boneless against the man behind him. His senses resurfaced in phases, and it was some time before he realized that his heaving breaths sounded more like sobs.

But Daryl was still there. Still holding him, soothing him, murmuring to him in that low, deep voice of his and pulling him back together piece by shuddering piece.

"Shh, you're alright now. Just breathe. It's alright."

They stayed that way for a long time. Long enough that when Daryl finally slid out from behind him, Rick startled noticeably. He watched the archer pad over to the bathroom, and return with a dampened washcloth. Daryl cleaned Rick off carefully then stepped away, throwing the soiled towel into the hamper and heading for the door.

Panic sliced through Rick like an icy dagger.

"Wait!" Rick gasped. Daryl's hand stopped in midair, hovering above the doorknob. He turned to look at the ex-Sheriff over his shoulder. And Rick figured that the words he was itching to say couldn't be any more humiliating than anything else he'd been subjected to tonight.

"Stay," Rick begged, holding Daryl's gaze, "Please."

Daryl let out a long breath, frowning at the floor for a moment. But then he flicked off the lights and slowly headed over to the bed. He got under the covers, but remained about as far away from Rick as he could reasonably manage. The constable turned on his side, watching Daryl through the darkness. The archer lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

It was easy enough to see that Daryl didn't want to be here. Or, maybe wanted to, but _couldn't_ \- didn't know how or had never learned how to stomach it. It wasn't that Daryl didn't want to be there, Rick wouldn't let his mind jump that far. The archer just needed someone to show him how. Show him how good it was to be with someone like this. But Rick wouldn't push him. Not yet. Instead, he gazed at Daryl, hardly bothering to conceal his fixation.

Rick watched the other man with a sense of awe, and found himself wishing for about the thousandth time that he could read Daryl's mind.

The younger man's chin twitched towards him, and a pair of bright blue eyes abruptly connected with Rick's own. Daryl let out a long sigh through tightly pursed lips.

"Alright," he said, opening up one arm in invitation, "C'mere."

Rick was too elated to waste time considering. He launched himself into Daryl's waiting arms, curling himself into the archer's side as if he'd been doing it for years, and laying his head down on Daryl's firm, warm chest.

Rick set his hand down in the center of Daryl's chest. But as soon as he'd done so, the archer picked it up roughly and folded it into the space between them. Daryl didn't want to be touched, that much was clear. Not like that, and not now.

But that hardly mattered, when the younger man was running his hand up and down Rick's back, lulling him to sleep the same way he might for Judith.

"S'nice," Rick murmured sleepily. The movements of Daryl's hand stuttered.

"Quiet," he ordered, but there wasn't any heat behind his demand. Rick thought he heard something more like confusion. Uncertainty, now that the part that Daryl was a downright _expert_ in had come and went.

Rick could show him. He could show Daryl _all_ of it. He could-

"Stop it," Daryl whispered, cutting off the incessant rambling of Rick's mind. "You're thinkin' too damn loud. I don't wanna hear another word outta ya, spoken or otherwise. Go to sleep."

With Daryl so warm and unyielding against him, Rick was helpless to comply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Daryl didn't sleep much on a good night. Back at the prison, he'd managed six or seven hours when he was truly exhausted. And behind Alexandria's walls, he was goddamn lucky if he got four. But with Rick curled into his side, clutching him tightly in his sleep, "not much" became "not at all."

But Daryl wasn't angry. Wasn't upset in the slightest, really. Not so much because he enjoyed sharing his space so intimately with the older man, but because he was pleasantly surprised by how little he hated it.

"We don't sleep together."

That had been one of the latter-most rules Daryl would present whenever he brought a new person to bed, after explanations of safe words and limits and everything else under the sun. He understood that some subs wanted more from their counterparts, something more closely resembling a relationship than the carefully-constructed arrangement Daryl put forth.

But sharing a bed was a slippery slope, like kissing, or holding hands, or spending any time together at all outside of fucking. The archer made a point to tell them upfront: anything that fell under the umbrella of boyfriend behavior was off the table.

He knew some heard his words, but still figured they could change him. Daryl would fuck them anyways, let himself become the vicious, feral thing that he tried to keep sated by limiting these encounters. Afterwards, he'd lose their number. Forget their name. Stare right through them if they passed on the street.

Others, the archer knew weren't subs at all. Sure, they'd _say_ they were. Say just about anything for a chance with him. Daryl knew the type, though he didn't much understand the appeal. But there was a particular way that some men and women threw themselves his way that told Daryl he could get away with whatever he liked. He'd fuck them, too. Almost always from behind.

There were only three people on Earth, before the world went to shit, that Daryl deigned to see on multiple occasions. One left when he realized that Daryl was in it for the sex, and the sex alone. Another Daryl kicked to the curb when she brazenly proclaimed her misplaced affection. The third was something nearly real, and encroaching on good. But she'd pushed too hard, asked too much of him. The morning he woke with his shirt bunched up around his shoulders and her hands on his naked back- that was the closest he'd ever come to hitting a woman. He never had, _never_ , but it had been close. She left his place in tears, and he never saw her again.

But it was for the best. That's what Merle had said, anyways.

Now, Daryl's mind was riddled with conflict. Part of him wanted to leave this bed, this room, this house, and never let anything like what had happened between he and Rick the night before happen again. But a more vocal recess of his brain reminded him just how long he'd wanted the ex-Sheriff. How many times he'd considered it in passing, in detail. The nights he'd repeat that mantra to himself, "He's straight. He's your best friend. It's never going to happen. Quit fucking thinking about it."

As it turned out, Daryl had been right on only one count: Rick was still his best friend. He was family. Blood. A better brother than Merle had ever been.

But because Rick had been his friend first, Daryl wasn't sure how to proceed. One thing he knew for sure was that he wouldn't survive losing Rick. The archer didn't just need people these days, he needed _Rick._ The man with curly, graying hair and a colt permanently strapped to his side.

One moment, Daryl reasoned with himself that if he let this thing with Rick continue, he'd lose the man for good. The next, hallucinations of Rick begging for him unprovoked sprang to mind, and it became much harder to deny that Rick had wanted him. Wanted all of it.

Daryl could give Rick that. He could fuck him and suck him and touch him in all the places the man had never thought to touch before. He could make Rick his. But no matter how much he wanted it to just be sex, Daryl knew he was fucked from the start. Feelings were already spun into the irrevocable mess between them. Not love, per se, but deep care. The kind where you'd die for the other person, follow them blindly into battle when they asked it of you, and knock them on their ass when they needed it.

Disconnected sex was easier. Daryl preferred for his partner to be in a position where they couldn't ask questions, wouldn't demand to understand the inner workings of his mind or try to push past all the walls he'd carefully erected years ago. He didn't need some bitch violating his most sacred rule while he slept, fucking psychoanalyzing him, or trying to categorize all his behaviors into neat little labeled packages.

Daryl wasn't sure Rick would try any of those things. Not outwardly, at least. But it was a risk. Letting someone this close always was.

It wasn't like Daryl had much of a choice, now. He had the chance to turn Rick away the afternoon before, when he'd seen how hard the man was, restrained in the middle of his kitchen. But Daryl couldn't help himself. Not when the object of his fantasies, the man who'd pulled him out of the darkness more times than Daryl could count, was offering himself up so willingly.

Rick shifted slightly against him, and let out a soft sound in his sleep. Just like that, Daryl caved yet again. His hands drifted over Rick's warm skin, caressing gently until he could feel the older man growing hard between them.

It was fucking addictive, and Daryl was a weak man. He wet two fingers thoroughly and brought them down between Rick's asscheeks. He stroked and prodded, careful and slow, until he could finally slip a finger inside. Christ, Rick was going to ruin him for anyone else. So tight and warm and trusting.

One finger became two, and now he and Rick both were hard as steel. It was a heady rush to see Rick's body working with him, grinding back in tiny movements as he slowly regained consciousness.

Feeling a little reckless, the archer pressed his face into Rick's hair for the few moments left before the other man would wake fully.

Daryl was so, completely, hopelessly fucked.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Rick woke up with two fingers hooked inside him. He had no idea how Daryl had managed it, but he was lying face down across the younger man's chest, cock wedged into the space where hip met thigh, and Daryl's long, calloused fingers were rubbing slowly at that spot that never failed to make him writhe. It only took Rick a half second more to recognize how hard he was, and that he was leaking steadily against Daryl's scorching skin.

In everything they'd done the night before, Rick hadn't once been allowed this much bodily contact with the archer. He basked in it, listening to the steady beating of Daryl's heart and pressing his lips down once in gratitude. Daryl shivered, and then a hand was closing around Rick's chin, preventing him from initiating anything so impudent again.

But Rick didn't mind. Not when Daryl was touching him so gently, reassuring him even before he woke that what had happened the night before was no fluke.

"Daryl," Rick choked out, trying to push back against the younger man's hand.

"Shh, none of that now," Daryl murmured, "Take it like a good boy."

This type of stimulation, entirely foreign just 24 hours before, was now all Rick craved.

"Daryl," Rick moaned again as he fought to keep his body still. And then, when those fingers pressed much more roughly inside him, "Ah! Daryl, _god_."

"Fuck, you just love it when I touch you," Daryl murmured, "Already learnin' to be good for me. Take it just how I like."

Rick could only moan, and bunch his fingers into the sheets underneath them.

Daryl applied gentle pressure to Rick's chin, urging the man to turn to face him.

"You can look at me," Daryl said softly. And Rick did, bright blue eyes locking onto Daryl's like a tracking beam.

He carded his fingers through Rick's hair, and licked his lips to see the ex-Sheriff shaking in need.

"You need to come, huh? Tryin' so hard not to," Daryl murmured. He moved his fingers harder, faster, and watched Rick's eyes scrunch up in pleasure.

Rick's entire body was tense and trembling. He begged the archer with closed lips and wide eyes.

Daryl rubbed his thumb over Rick's cheek.

"S'alright," Daryl told him, "You g'wan and come for me, now. Show me how good I make you feel."

Rick let himself go. He slammed himself back into Daryl's fingers, rutted forward against his thigh, and it only took a handful of desperate movements before he was whimpering as he came, pressing his lips into Daryl's chest to stifle the noises even though he knew he wasn't supposed to.

But Daryl didn't seem angry. Not when he was scratching against Rick's skull in a way that made him shiver, and keeping his fingers hooked inside the older man, prolonging his pleasure with each resounding rub against his prostate.

"That oughta soften you up for the day," Daryl murmured as Rick fought to catch his breath, "Got some hearts that need winnin' back."

But Rick wasn't listening to Daryl's words. No, the ex-Sheriff was far too focused on squirming onto his side, then coming up onto his hands and knees in a position that he hoped would look enticing. They'd been pressed together long enough for Rick to recognize that Daryl was just as affected by all this as he was. Daryl was hard. Hard for _him_ , Rick reasoned, and he'd be damned if he passed up on an opportunity like this.

Daryl's lip quirked nearly imperceptably, watching the older man sway with his ass in the air.

"Watcha doin' there, Rick?" Daryl asked lowly. The constable could tell that the archer was trying to bite back a smile, but he didn't let it deter him.

"Want you," Rick murmured, trying for sultry, while maintaining Daryl's fiery gaze. "Want you, Daryl. Please."

"You already got me," Daryl teased.

Rick shook his head. Daryl knew. He _knew_ , but he wanted Rick to say it. That much, the ex-Sheriff figured he could handle.

"Want you to fuck me," Rick breathed, "Please. _Please_ , fuck me."

Daryl's expression sobered, but the other man couldn't put his finger on why. The archer came up onto his knees beside Rick and grazed his fingers down his back and over his ass.

"Y'ain't ready for me to fuck you," Daryl told him gently. And then with a little more force, "And y'aint even close to deservin' it." He grasped Rick by the chin and forced the other man to meet his eye. "You want me that bad?"

Rick rubbed his face against Daryl's hand like a cat blearily seeking affection.

"You want me too," Rick replied.

Daryl huffed out a laugh. "Let's not go pretendin' like you've got any idea what I want outta you, Rick. S'pretty damn clear you're lost as fuck."

"If you told me what you wanted, I'd give it to you," Rick replied without thinking. Because he would. He'd give Daryl anything, all of him.

The movement of Daryl's hand stuttered, before the man muttered, "You can't," so low Rick could barely hear him.

Realizing that his initial plan was shot, Rick took another tactic. "I want to make you feel good," he murmured, "However- however you want me to. Just, please. Please let me."

Daryl stroked his thumb over Rick's cheek. "You want it that bad?"

"Yes," Rick beseeched him, voice coming out in more of a gasp.

"Alright," Daryl whispered, like he was just starting to believe it. Then, a little louder, "Alright."

He pushed himself onto his knees behind Rick, and the older man heard the distinctive sound of a belt coming undone, a fly unzipped. A calloused hand pushed his face down into the mattress with enough force that Rick knew better than to move.

Rick's mind raced, body tensed and shook simultaneously because _were they really going to do this? Was this real?_ Rick was excited. He was terrified. But most of all he was fucking confused because by no stretch of his imagination did he believe Daryl would give this to him so easily.

Then, with a whoosh of air, Daryl's open palm smacked into the meaty part of Rick's ass. Skin to skin. And Rick started to understand. He couldn't see Daryl from this angle, but he knew from the first hot, slippery drip of precum against his lower back that the other man was stroking himself one-handed. The other remained occupied slapping Rick's ass until it was rosy all over.

"You're so fuckin' sure you want me inside ya," Daryl rasped, a little breathless now. Fuck did Rick love hearing him that way. "Ain't never had _nothin'_ inside ya before yesterday, and you think you can take my cock?"

"I don't know if I can," Rick answered truthfully. His face was turned to one side, and though he still couldn't see Daryl, he could spot the jerky movements of his fist in his periphery. "But I want to."

"When I _do_ fuck you, it ain't gonna be 'cuz ya begged me to," Daryl told him, bringing his hand down harder than before. His voice was strained, like he couldn't quite breathe under the mounting pleasure, and Rick wanted so badly to watch him reach the point of no return. "Ain't no use rewarding ya for bad behavior," Daryl continued, "Actin' like you got any say at all on when ya come and how I let ya do it. That ain't up to you. Not anymore."

That slick sound of skin on skin was increasing steadily. And even though RIck's ass stung with each spiteful blow from Daryl's palm, there was nothing the ex-Sheriff desired more than to hear Daryl lose himself, finally. To feel the younger man spend himself all over his waiting body.

"Ain't gonna fuck you as punishment, neither," Daryl said, "In case you were wondering. Sex isn't a punishment with me, it's the goddamn reward."

"What-" Rick gasped as Daryl's fingers spread apart his cheeks, teased around the furl of muscle now oversensitive from the archer's touching. "What do I have to do, so you'll reward me?"

When Daryl responded, voice gravel rough, Rick knew he was close.

"Could start by spreading your legs wider," Daryl groaned. He reached down and rolled Rick's balls in his hand, fucking his own fist in an increasingly irregular rhythm.

Breaking the rules, knowing he could very well be punished for attempting it, Rick craned his neck to lock eyes with Daryl over his shoulder. He expected to see any calm on Daryl's features snap inwards at the blink of an eye, and for the other man to become that dominating, ruthless thing that Rick both loved and yearned to soothe into submission.

Instead, Rick's eyes on Daryl seemed to be the final straw. And the ex-Sheriff had the unique pleasure of bearing witness as Daryl's body seized up like he was possessed, as he groaned out an "oh, fuck" so gravel-thick that it was barely understandable, and as his cock literally pulsed in his hand, spurting come across Rick's back.

The string holding Daryl aloft abruptly snapped, and he slumped behind Rick, holding hard enough to the older man's hip that he was sure it would bruise.

Eventually, Daryl's wits slowly came back to him. He wasn't altogether surprised that Rick hadn't tried to move yet, but still, he rewarded the other man by cleaning him carefully with a washcloth from the bathroom.

He had just chucked it into the hamper when he caught Rick staring at him.

"Shit. You wanna _talk_ , don't you?" Daryl sighed, tone somewhere between scolding and playful.

"Don't _you_?" Rick countered, and realized immediately how stupid that question was. Daryl was the goddamn king of speaking only when it was absolutely necessary. "I just...I have some questions?"

Daryl sighed deeply, then returned his attention to gathering his clothes together for the day.

"Yeah, alright," the hunter said, "Lay 'em on me."

Rick tried not to feel offended by Daryl's evident lack of interest in the conversation. He told himself that maybe, most likely, busying himself with something mundane was the only way Daryl could cope with a discussion that bordered on serious.

"So you like...men?" Rick asked him, getting the most awkward question out of the way.

Daryl shrugged as he pulled on his boots. "Like what I like."

Rick frowned. "So...what? Girls too?"

"Ain't never had much of a preference," Daryl tried to explain, "S'long as they can give me what I'm after."

"And what you're after...is what we did last night? You've done that before?" Rick pried.

"Yes."

"With how many people?"

Daryl shot him an exasperated look. "A lot." He laced up his boots. "But none since all this started. 'Til you."

Somehow, Rick's chest flared with pride at that.

"I've never done anything like that before," Rick said, "Lori was the only person I'd ever been with, and we were never...rough. Didn't know I wanted it" _and I'm still not sure whether I wanted the pain or I just wanted you_ "but, it was good. _Really_ good." He bit at his lip, adopitng the archer's habit. "Do you want it to happen again?"

 _More than anything._ "That's up to you." _But I know it won't end well._

Rick huffed out an anxious laugh. "I'd rather it be up to the both of us. Don't want you to keep this going just to _humor_ me."

Daryl finished buttoning his shirt. "I wouldn't do that. But it's still gotta be your choice. 'Cuz if we keep this up, I'm gonna hurt you, Rick. Might do it one day to punish ya. Another just 'cuz I like knowing I can. It's part of the deal, and I can't decide for you if you'll be able to stomach it."

Rick shifted his weight awkwardly on the bed, staring down at his feet.

"I like the pain. Maybe even need it," the constable whispered. He looked up to meet Daryl's eye. "As long as it's you. I trust you." He scratched at the back of his neck. "Will it be the belt?"

Rick hated how that question morphed Daryl's expression from cautious to pained.

"Yeah," Daryl muttered after a beat, "the belt."

It was hard to hear that word out of Rick's mouth, when the ex-Sheriff was the first person Daryl had taken to bed who'd known _exactly_ why the belt was so fucking important.

"And would you be doing this with anyone else?" Rick asked him.

Daryl's lip quirked upwards, and Rick felt his whole body sag in relief.

"No, Rick. I don't share."

Rick smiled crookedly at the younger man.

"And just to be clear, that goes both ways. I see you so much as look at that blonde chick, and you ain't gonna like what happens," Daryl added, voice low and fierce.

Rick couldn't help but hope that possessiveness meant something. Maybe Daryl wasn't ready to hold his hand and stroll down Main Street, but he wanted to _own_ Rick. That kind of desire wasn't some casual emotion, the kind you could feel for a fuck buddy or a friend.

"It was never about her. I wanted you. I just didn't think-" Rick cut himself off. "But I want this. I mean, if you-"

"I want it," Daryl rasped, cursing himself silently when the words came out far too quickly.

Rick grinned at Daryl shyly, an expression the archer had never seen on the other man before.

"Alright, then," Rick murmured.

"Alright," Daryl echoed. He stood up and slung his bow over his shoulder. "First thing you're gonna do when you come home tonight is tell me your safe word."

"I don't need one," Rick replied, a little petulantly, "I trust you."

"You shouldn't," Daryl bit back sharply. "I'll hurt you, Rick. In more ways than one. You'll be broken before you even realize you'd started to crack."

"Maybe I want you to break me," Rick said, holding Daryl's gaze.

The archer took a step back, reeling away from Rick for the first time in days. He scrubbed a hand over his face, glaring at the ground.

"Unless you've got yourself a word, and ya show me you know when to use it, I ain't touchin' you again. Got it?"

Rick knew, by this point, the only thing Daryl wanted to hear.

"Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Rick made one circuit around the town. Just one. But when he'd circled back to the house they'd been gifted, Daryl was gone.

It left the ex-Sheriff shocked and reasonably worried when one look at his face had Carl explaining how Daryl had stopped to say goodbye to Judy and himself before heading out that morning with Aaron. Rick figured he must have some expression in his reserves that specifically communicated " _Where is Daryl?"_ An expression Carl knew so well, that he could identify it instantly.

But more worrisome than that was the fact that Daryl hadn't bothered to tell _him_ that he was leaving for the day. Or mention how long he'd be gone or where the _hell_ he thought he was going at a time like this.

Just like that, the calm Rick had felt this morning was gone, replaced by something that teetered between dread and outright panic.

The next time Daryl would see Rick, the constable would have a gun in his hand and a body at his feet.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl and Rick were the last through the door at the end of the night. Long after the rest of their family had gone to bed, following several awkward hours of clean-up, and a truncated hello to Morgan. The archer never let slip a single word.

He maintained his silence the entire walk home. Kept quiet for the slow ascent to the top floor, and didn't need to make any semblance of a sound to get Rick into the bathroom with him. The ex-Sheriff stood stock still as Daryl slowly undressed, fierce blue eyes boring into his own as he removed his belt with care and hung it on the doorknob. A promise.

He turned on the water and stepped under the spray, motioned for Rick to join him.

"You're mad," Rick whispered childishly when there were only inches between them.

Daryl scoffed and turned his back to the older man. And even though Rick knew that _that_ meant the archer was a lot more than mad, he also didn't neglect to recognize the significance of the gesture.

"Told ya to make nice. Told ya to steer clear of those fuckers. And what do you do? You execute that sonofabitch in front of the whole goddamn town."

"It wasn't-" Rick began to protest, but the words died on his tongue. "It wasn't _entirely_ my fault," Rick settled on saying. "Pete showed up with Michonne's katana. Ready to kill me. And once he'd killed Reg, it was a done deal. And now they understand- the people here, they finally-"

"And why'd he decide to do it _then,_ in front of everyone?" Daryl cut him off. Rick got the chilling sense that the other man already knew the answer. "You do anything to set him off?"

"I…" Rick thought about lying. He really did. "I went by to see Jesse, earlier. To apologize. Guess...guess he might have seen."

The look in Daryl's eyes shot icy daggers through Rick's veins. Seemingly satisfied with the amount of blood now swirling down the drain rather than clinging to their bodies, Daryl shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, not bothering to towel dry. He swung open the door to Rick's bedroom, and took the belt he'd left hanging from the knob in hand. Just the belt.

Then, Daryl stepped aside and glared in Rick's direction, the constable still hesitating on the tiled floor.

He took a step forward, faltering, weak. "You're gonna use that?"

"I am," Daryl rasped, "You gonna bend over and take it?"

It was an out if Rick had ever heard one. He could leave now, and Daryl wouldn't stop him. He could walk his quivering form to the room down the hall, and never have Daryl's hands on his body again. He _could_ leave, but he wouldn't. Because any amount of pain was worth those few minutes, seconds when Daryl would touch him like it meant something.

"I'll do whatever you want," Rick replied.

Daryl's eyes went dark and light all at once. "Yeah, you say that now. But seems to me as soon as I'm out of your sight, you figure you can get away with breaking the rules. Maybe you just need a reminder, huh? Need a lil' something to remind ya when you're out there on those streets that I own your ass."

Rick was close enough now for Daryl to touch him. He didn't.

"What's your safeword?"

"Red."

Daryl smirked at him. "You got some experience you ain't told me about?"

Rick blushed. "Seen some pornos…" he admitted quietly.

One of Daryl's hands flashed outwards, and the next thing Rick knew, he was face down on the mattress, ass high and on display. He turned his head towards the wall, and smiled into the comforter when he realized he could see the both of them in the mirror over the dresser.

"I'm gonna beat your ass 'til I see fit to stop," Daryl growled. "Gonna get that ass so raw y'ain't gonna be sittin' right for weeks. What do you say if you can't take it, if you need me to stop?"

"Red," Rick whispered.

"Good boy," Daryl rumbled, and he brought the belt down on Rick's ass with an echoing slap.

Rick jolted, and dug his hands into the blanket. This wasn't like the spanking Daryl had doled out earlier. Without the protective layer of his clothing, each slice of the belt _hurt_. Not that dull sting that doubled his arousal, but true, honest pain. It came again, and again.

In the mirror, Daryl was the picture of grace. Feet and hands moving as one, belt never hitting twice in the same spot. Still, tears were streaming down Rick's face steadily now. He was struggling to keep quiet.

The archer's face was a mask of indifference, and Rick dimly considered that if he could see the pleasure on Daryl's face, then the pain of each blow would cease to exist. He was doing this for _Daryl_ , after all. Rick would do whatever it took to make the younger man happy.

Except happy was hardly the word to describe the younger Dixon at that moment. Completely zoned out, or perhaps startlingly focused, but not happy.

Noises began to bubble out of Rick's throat, and the ex-Sheriff was helpless to stop them. There were thick welts across the flesh of his ass now. Welts that threatened to break, to bleed all over their pristine sheets if Daryl didn't stop soon.

"Ah!" Rick cried out, biting down on his fist at the last moment. His entire body trembled with the effort it took to keep the sobs at bay.

And he'd withstood his fair share of pain. They all had, at this point. But there was something so much worse about having the man he loved perpetrate it. _He needs this_ , Rick kept reminding himself, _You'd do anything for him, and he needs you to do this._

At the sound of Rick's voice, warbling and strained, Daryl dropped the belt like it had scalded him. Rick watched the younger man's face crumple, briefly. But then the archer took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Get up," Daryl commanded. His voice cracked, if only slightly. "Get up on all fours."

Rick did, shakily. He felt the bed dip behind him.

"Spread your legs a little more, sweetheart," Daryl murmured, and Rick's body immediately relaxed at his tone. He did as Daryl said, only to jolt forwards a second later in shock when something warm and wet connected with his virgin furl of muscle.

"Daryl," Rick gasped, a shiver rippling down his spine. And then when that tongue swirled, flicked, left his cock leaking where it hung, "Oh _fuck,_ Daryl. Oh god."

He'd never felt anything like it. Nerves he didn't even know he _had_ were on fire, hot as magnesium and pulsing in the same rhythm as his fast-beating heart.

Warm, wet muscle wriggled forward, and all the breath pushed its way out of Rick's lungs in a startled rush just as Daryl's tongue pushed its way inside.

"Fuck!" Rick shouted into the blankets, trembling in pleasure this time because he was _right fucking there_. "Daryl, please. Please, please, please, please…"

"You come when you need to, darlin'," Daryl pulled back just enough to rasp, "Say my name when ya do it."

He dove back in, and Rick was rocking helplessly on his hands and knees, keening into the comforter.

"Daryl," Rick moaned. It occurred to him that he was speared on Daryl's tongue, that everything he was feeling at this moment was _Daryl_. And that thought, coupled with the way Daryl's mouth was taking him apart, was more than Rick could take.

"Jesus, Daryl!" Rick cried, before pumping out a load of come onto the comforter below him, cock pulsing untouched.

Rick was still shaking with pleasure when he heard Daryl grunt from behind him, and felt come splash across his lower back.

There were several long, blissful moments where neither of them moved, and the room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing.

Eventually, Daryl carefully maneuvered Rick to a clean part of the bed, helping him to lay comfortably on his front. The archer stood up and padded over the dresser, when he returned, Rick felt something cool against his still-throbbing backside.

The ex-Sheriff winced, and fought the urge to curl away from Daryl's touch.

"It's aloe," Daryl told him softly, "It'll help with the pain."

Rick turned his head so he could watch the archer as he carefully slathered on a healthy layer of cream.

"What do you think about, when you use the belt?" Rick asked him suddenly, regretting it when Daryl's eyes slammed shut like he was fighting back something painful and thick.

He took a long, slow breath. "Nothing," Daryl sighed.

The word hung in the air, until Rick finally had to question, "Nothing?"

Daryl leaned back against the headboard, and brought his knees up protectively against his chest.

"Used to be, anytime I so much as looked at, I'd get…" Daryl started, trailing off when he couldn't quite make the words come. "Getting dressed. The sound. But when I use it...like that, I don't have to feel nothin'. Cancels out or something." He looked up at Rick abruptly, seeming startled by his own admission. "Shit. Don't think that made any sense."

"It does," Rick promised emphatically. "I'm glad you told me."

Daryl sighed and flicked off the light on the bedside table, sunk down into the sheets on his back.

"Should get some sleep," Daryl murmured, gazing in Rick's direction.

And the curly-haired man considered it a victory when Daryl opened his arms to him without so much as a pleading glance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

With Glenn still unconscious, Pete dead, and too much time on his hands, Rick found himself knocking on Aaron's front door.

It wasn't a conscious decision, and it wasn't one made out of anger or frustration either. But something still felt unsettled about the way Daryl had taken off without a word the day before, and the look in his eyes when he'd finally returned. And who the fuck did Aaron think he was taking off with Daryl to begin with? The archer was _his._ Or at the very least, he belonged to Daryl. Aaron should have goddamn known better than to head off with him without so much as a cursory okay from their group's leader.

"Rick!" Aaron exclaimed, looking confused, and the slightest bit nervous. Rick smirked at him. "I wasn't expecting you. Would you- ?"

Rick pushed past him and into the house, walking himself into the living room before turning back to face Aaron head on.

"You need to come to me before you and Daryl go out on a run. I didn't think that was something that would need explaining, but I'll spell it out for you. Daryl's not one of you. He's my people. Anything to do with him gets run by me," Rick said.

"I- I didn't know," Aaron sputtered, eyes going wide in understanding. "I thought he'd told you. He never said he hadn't. I would have mentioned it, otherwise."

"Well now you _do_ know," Rick maintained. He crossed his hands over his chest and attempted to reel back his scowl a degree or two. "Something happened, yesterday. When you went out. You're gonna tell me what."

"Daryl didn't say anything?"

"We were a bit preoccupied."

"Right. That makes sense. We just...we had a close call," Aaron told him cautiously.

"How close?" Rick growled, taking a step forward unconsciously.

Aaron eyed him warily. "We ran into a trap someone set. Filled up a bunch of food trucks at a canning company with walkers. Rigged the place so if one truck's doors opened, all of them would. We got pushed inside a car, surrounded. Only reason we made it back here was that Morgan showed up and saved us."

Rick nodded, more towards the ground than Aaron himself, and turned towards the door.

"Wait, Rick," Aaron called. The ex-Sheriff turned to look at him. "Before Morgan got there, when we thought we'd have to get ourselves out of that mess, Daryl, he...he was going to sacrifice himself. He wanted to go out first, lead as many away as he could. I had to talk him out of it. But it took a while, _too long_ , to convince him that we should fight our way out together."

Aaron sighed heavily, still on edge for Rick's reaction. "Daryl's a good man, but he's not a martyr. I don't think he offered to do something like that just on principle. I think...I know he'd never say it, but he thinks he isn't worth as much. And you need to be the one to tell him he's wrong, Rick. You're the only one he'd believe."

Rick let his chin drop to his chest and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose.

"Thank you for telling me," he muttered. He slipped out the door without looking behind him.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The house was quiet when Rick returned. Not entirely silent, but quiet, the way it always was when Daryl was close by. The rest of his family was out around town; Rick knew that without having to scour each room for any lingerers. Aside from Daryl, his family was loud. Not boisterous or obnoxious, but the effort it took for them to lead their daily lives had a sort of white noise to it. The world hummed when they were present.

In a room with Daryl, and Daryl alone, you could hear a pin drop. Rick suspected it was a learned habit, and not just from the time he'd spent tracking down his own dinner out in the woods.

Rick ascended the staircase quietly. On the top floor, the floor where he and Daryl now shared a bed, he spotted Judith's nursery door cracked open, slightly. Just inside, Daryl was settled on the floor with Judith cradled against his chest. She was snoring softly, and Daryl had his eyes closed as well, and his chin tucked into his chest. And even though Daryl's grip on Judith was firm, his arms remained tense as stone, as if the slightest move in the wrong direction might crush her.

Daryl's ears were too sharp for Rick to bother announcing his entrance. Instead, he tread softly inside, and sat down beside the archer with his back against the wall.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving, yesterday?" Rick asked him, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"Told Carl," Daryl replied after a beat, without the force of something defensive.

"But not me," Rick said flatly.

"He's still a kid," Daryl said, "He worries."

" _I_ worry," Rick said, trying and failing to catch Daryl's gaze. "I'm right to worry. Because any time we go out there, it could be the last time. Aaron...he told me what happened…"

"Was nothin'," Daryl was too quick to whisper.

Rick held back a snort of incredulity. "You nearly died! You nearly died, and you were ready to throw yourself to the wolves, for what? How could you risk your life like that?"

"Aaron's got someone waiting for him."

"And you don't?"

"Ain't the same." Daryl shrugged almost imperceptibly, eyes on Judy's sleep-slackened face.

"It is," Rick insisted, "It is the same."

Daryl was hiding behind his bangs, eyes nearly shut as he gazed down at the child in his arms. Rick felt panic welling in him as every second ticked by where he couldn't pinpoint those bright blue orbs.

"Nah," Daryl finally sighed. "If I died, you'd get over me, Rick."

It was a sharper punch to the gut than any blow Rick had ever received. It left him reeling for a solid minute, at the end of which he carefully came to his feet, and held out his arms to Daryl.

"Give her to me," Rick said. He tried to imagine that Daryl didn't flinch at those words, before standing himself and gently transferring her into her father's arms. He looked on, longingly, as Rick set Judith down in her crib. "Come with me," Rick said when he stepped back.

He led Daryl down the hall, and when he was halfway down the stairs, he looked back to see the archer hesitating on the landing.

"It's mid-afternoon, she'll sleep for a good couple of hours. And anyways, we're not leaving the house. If she wakes up, I know you'll hear her."

Daryl nodded jerkily, and followed Rick down and into the living room. He stopped just as abruptly as Rick did, in the center of the room. And when the ex-Sheriff ripped off his belt and shoved it into Daryl's hands, this time, the hunter couldn't hide his flinch.

"What the hell?" Daryl spat, finally breaking out of his haze.

"You think this thing with us is temporary," Rick accused, "You think I'll change my mind. That if I lost you, I'd pick myself back up again. That's bullshit. I'm yours, Daryl. And for however long you want me, not just right now."

Daryl's eyes darted from the belt to Rick's face. His lower lip was pulled between his teeth.

"I get it. You don't have to prove it to me like this," Daryl said.

"You get it, but you don't believe it," Rick countered. " _Use it on me_. Please."

"Rick…" Daryl breathed, "I use it again so soon, and it'll leave marks. Scars like mine. I can't-"

"I want you to mark me," Rick said, "Want to have it there forever."

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath and shut his eyes. Rick closed the distance between them, but didn't reach out to touch.

Cerulean dark pools blinked open and locked onto Rick. "You want to make me believe it?"

Rick nodded. "I'll do whatever you want. Anything. But I won't have you walk out of here thinking...thinking that if you'd died out there with Aaron, that I'd ever be able to function again. I need you."

Daryl's chest shuddered as it expanded. "Then, bend over the couch."

Rick didn't so much as blink before he obeyed.

"You stay like that," Daryl drawled, "You stay just like that, until I get back."

Footsteps grew softer as Daryl left his side, and Rick wondered just how long he'd be left to his punishment this time. Minutes, hours, anything would be worth it. His thighs shook, mostly from nerves.

Sooner than expected, Daryl's hands were back on Rick's body. The archer unbuttoned Rick's jeans and shoved them to the floor, along with his boxers. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and as it warmed Daryl's skin, it occurred to him that Rick hadn't said a single word about how _visible_ they were at the moment. He slicked up a finger and swirled it around the pucker of muscle.

"Gonna put somethin' inside ya," Daryl murmured, as he slipped one digit into Rick. He smiled with how readily Rick's body took him, melting into it with none of the hesitance of days before. "Spell out your safeword for me."

"R-E-D," Rick replied, "What exactly…?"

"Said you wanted to make me believe you," Daryl said, adding a second finger and scissoring slowly, "M'gonna let ya."

Daryl seemed to be purposefully avoiding his prostate. Still, Rick moaned into the fabric of the couch and pushed himself back against the hunter's fingers. With three digits inside of him, Rick's cock bobbed and leaked onto the floor. And just when Rick knew he couldn't hold on any longer, just when the knowledge of what Daryl was doing to him became too much, the archer's fingers were replaced with the blunt end to a toy Rick was positive they'd never used before.

He bore down and allowed Daryl to push the smooth object inside of him. And even though Rick remained as still as possible, he could feel how it curved to press up against the place he needed it most. With the toy firmly situated, Daryl knelt down and pulled up Rick's boxers and jeans. Took special care as he tucked the ex-Sheriff's flushed, throbbing length into his fly.

"Stand up nice and slow," Daryl said, "Don't wanna move too fast now, not 'til ya get used to it."

Rick straightened his spine slow as could be, and let Daryl turn his body so they were facing. He stood before Daryl red-faced and panting, knowing that this couldn't be _all_ of what the other man had in mind.

"Come outside with me," Daryl said, and Rick followed him out onto the porch, whining quietly with every step. People were filing out onto the street as they headed home for the day. The archer leaned in close, "How's it feel?"

Rick closed his eyes before he answered. "Full," he whispered. "Good."

Daryl licked his lips. His pupils were blown wide and dark. "Want you to walk to the end of the block for me. Then come back."

Rick stared at him, maybe a beat too long. He swallowed thickly.

"You said you'd do anything I wanted. Said you were mine. If that's true, then you'll walk down that street plugged up, and you'll do it 'cuz I asked you to," Daryl said.

"Alright," Rick rasped. He cleared his throat, "Alright."

Daryl stepped to the edge of the porch, and kept his heated gaze on Rick's back as the ex-Officer slowly descended the stairs, wincing with every step, and began the long walk towards the opposite end of the street.

Every move was torture. The toy inside him shifted and massaged against his spot as he walked. He wondered how his body was managing to function at all, with 90% of his blood occupied with heating his cheeks or maintaining the dull throb of his confined length. There were people walking by, looking at him with raised brows. And Rick knew he was a mess- sweat pouring down his neck, eyes practically crossed in reluctant pleasure. But with how erratic his mood had been over the last few days, no one so much as nodded hello. Rick was unduly grateful.

Finally, fucking _finally_ , he reached the corner of the block and turned back around. Daryl was leaning against the side of the house, watching him in a way that even from a distance screamed _sex_ and _want_ and _mine._

Rick had made it ten steps when out of nowhere, startling vibrations rocked through his body and stopped him in his tracks. He fell forward and nearly topped, but his hands on his knees stopped him. And Rick very seriously considered shooting himself in the face, because people really _were_ staring now. How could they not, when he was hunched over in the middle of the road like a moron, panting and groaning under his breath?

In a minute that felt like hours, Rick managed to straighten himself up again. Daryl was smirking, and had one hand in his left pocket. A pocket that undoubtedly contained the remote to the toy currently quivering away inside Rick's body. He tried to muster up a frown in return, but could only whimper quietly. There was a dark spot forming at the crotch of his jeans.

"Rick!" A hand clapped down onto his shoulder from behind him, and _fuck, fuck no, please_. But then the vibrating stopped, and Rick managed to propel his body forwards.

"Hey, Abraham."

Abraham eyed him up and down with concern. "You alright, man? You don't look so good."

"Fine," Rick bit out, biting back the groans that wanted to slip out with every step he took. "Might have pulled a muscle yesterday, wrestling that walker."

Abraham shrugged and continued past him. Rosita was close behind, and Michonne breezed past with Carl in tow only a few seconds later. Rick was halfway home now, and moving at a snail's pace, but Daryl's eyes had never left his.

With people all around them, Daryl shoved his hand back into his pocket, and the toy inside Rick began juddering at full force.

"Fuck!" he gasped, nearly stopping in his tracks. His eyes slammed shut, and when he opened them, Carol had appeared at his side, watching him with a slight smile on her lips.

"You okay, sunshine?"

"M'fine," Rick grit out. "Why do people keep asking me that?"

Her quirked lip split into a full-on grin. "No reason."

She strolled ahead of him and skipped up the steps to where Daryl still stood. Carol tapped two fingers against Daryl's chest. "You be careful with him, Pookie."

And while Daryl's eyebrows initially shot up in surprise, it was easy enough for his shock to melt into affection. He smiled at her conspiratorily, "'Course."

When Rick finally got a hand on the bannister, he was practically sobbing. Daryl gave him a reprieve from the ceaseless vibrations, figuring he'd earned it, and led him over to the bench Michonne had pulled up onto the porch a few days before, claiming it made the place "homier." Rick collapsed onto it with a strangled moan, and tilted his head back to watch as Daryl came to stand behind him.

Rick jumped a little when Daryl's hands came down upon his shoulders, but when they squeezed gently, then began to slowly rub all the tension out of his body, Rick slumped backwards and shut his eyes.

"Can't believe you did that," Daryl said. He sounded pleased.

"Can't believe you didn't tell me this thing has a _remote_ ," Rick replied.

Daryl smiled down at him. "Figured if we got that far, ya wouldn't be in a place to complain, anyways." One of Daryl's hands disappeared into his pocket, and then the pulsations were back full throttle, making Rick's entire lower body shake. "M'gonna let you come, now. Want you to do it right here on this porch, with all these people milling around, lookin' at ya. Think they know what a little whore you are for me?"

Rick could only moan, hips canting up off the bench even as he tried to hold himself still.

"What do you think they'd say, if they knew their badass constable had a toy trilling away up his ass, right now?"

"Daryl…"

"I like seein' you like this," Daryl told him, "Can see that cock of yours twitching away against your zipper. It's fuckin' hot. Bet I'm gonna be able to see every fuckin' pulse of it when you shoot off in your jeans."

"Oh God," Rick groaned. It was taking everything he had to keep his orgasm at bay. "Please. Fuck, Daryl, _please_."

One of the archer's hands curled around his neck, possessive and fierce, while the other scraped its way down his chest.

"G'wan," Daryl whispered, "Come for me."

Rick shouted into the crook of Daryl's arm as his body convulsed in on itself. Too loudly. And with more sets of eyes on him than he'd care to acknowledge, Rick came right where he sat, writhing helplessly on the bench and panting open-mouthed.

"So fuckin' hot," Daryl was murmuring to him as we watched the front of Rick's jeans soak through. "Jesus, Rick. Holy shit."

People wouldn't know, of course. Couldn't know for sure that he'd just come in his pants in broad daylight. But a few would suspect, and that knowledge was enough to have Rick begging Daryl with his eyes. The hum of the vibrator was louder than the pounding in his ears, and Rick just wanted to _hide_.

Mercifully, Daryl switched it off. "C'mon," he said, "Let's go upstairs."

So Rick followed him, grateful that the younger man blocked the view of his crotch as they made their way inside. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, Daryl demanded, "Get naked."

Still shaky, and not entirely sure whether he should be mortified by what he'd just done or simply accept that it had been exciting and _sexy_ , Rick skimmed out of his clothing.

"Middle of the bed. On your back," Daryl said, and while Rick hurried to comply, the archer jerked off his belt and unzipped his fly. He climbed over to where Rick lay and grasped the older man by either wrist, bringing them up over his head. "Hold onto the headboard. You let go, you don't come."

Rick nodded quickly, and was about to ask, about to _beg_ , when Daryl's lips careened into his.

It wasn't the violent experience Rick had been subjected to a handful of times before. Daryl was kissing him slowly, deeply, hands fluttering over his sides and his arms and his neck. Rick needed to say it again. He had to be sure Daryl _knew_.

"I'm yours," Rick whispered when they finally broke for air. There were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "You've got to come back. You've always got to come back, Daryl. I'll always be waiting for you. I-"

"Shh," Daryl soothed. He pressed their foreheads together. "I hear you. I _believe_ you. Swear I do."

Gently, he removed the toy from Rick's body and threw it to the side. Daryl pressed both their cocks together and wrapped his hand around them.

He moved slowly, twisting the palm of his hand over both leaking heads and relishing the desperate way Rick kept moaning his name. He wasn't going to last.

"You come when I do," Daryl groaned.

Rick moaned with his head thrown back, and the muscles in his arms rippled and flexed as he clutched the headboard tighter.

"Please," Rick gasped, "Ah, please."

The ex-Sheriff tucked his head forward again, and then he was looking at Daryl with an expression so raw, and open, and wrecked, that Daryl couldn't deny him this. Couldn't deny him _anything_.

"Gonna come," Daryl grunted. He rutted faster into his grip, mouth falling open in delight at the way Rick's face scrunched up in pleasure. "That's it. Fuck, that's it."

Daryl leaned down in a split decision and clamped his teeth into place on Rick's neck. He sucked hard, hard enough to leave a bruise that would be dark and ominous, in a place that would show just above his collar. The archer saw the moment Rick recognized what he'd done, and why he'd done it. With that, they both convulsed into orgasm, mouths crashing together haphazardly and cocks streaking white over Rick's stomach.

Daryl collapsed mostly on top of him, fighting to catch his breath. And the archer didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the sound of Judith crying startled him awake sometime later. He sat up quickly, jolting Rick to consciousness in the process. When he saw that the older man's hands were still stretched above his head, he smiled with pride.

Judith's crying abruptly abated, and Daryl heard Carol cooing to her from down the hall.

"You can move your arms," Daryl said, "Must be aching somethin' awful."

"Was worth it," Rick replied. He sat up slowly, and wasn't at all surprised when Daryl appeared with a warm washcloth, and proceeded to carefully clean off his torso.

It did surprise him, though, when Daryl took the time to help Rick get dressed. He buttoned the older man's shirt for him, combed his fingers through his mess of hair until it looked somewhat presentable.

"You didn't use the belt," Rick said, when Daryl was in the process of buckling his shut. Daryl didn't respond, or look up from his task. "It doesn't...I might be wrong. Wouldn't be the first time I was wrong about the way you think, but, it doesn't seem like you like usin' it on me the way we did yesterday."

Daryl frowned at the floor. "It ain't really about _like_."

"It's about need, I understand that," Rick said, "But maybe we could use it a different way?"

Daryl's eyes darted up to meet his, and slowly, so slowly, the frown on his face dissolved into a hesitant smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Nightmares startled Rick awake in the dead of night. He went out on to the porch, the only place his thoughts didn't seem overwhelmingly loud, and found Alexandria deathly quiet. It had been a fight just to get someone up in the tower on guard; no one stayed up past sunset in this town.

But in the moment, the isolation was a relief. Rick sat down heavily onto the bench and stared out at the empty street. And he could have been out there for a few minutes, or a few hours, before he heard, "Christ, Rick. You're thinkin' so loud I heard it from all the way upstairs."

Rick smiled at Daryl tiredly. "Sorry. Didn't wanna wake you."

"Did anyways," Daryl replied. He sat down next to the constable. "Gotten used to sharing the bed, I suppose."

Rick smiled, more to himself than to Daryl, and leaned back with a sigh.

"So what's keepin' you up?" Daryl asked him.

"Glenn," Rick said simply.

Daryl hummed under his breath. "Ain't been that long. He'll pull through."

"A day and a half," Rick disagreed, "That's a long time to be unconscious."

"You were unconscious for a hell of a lot longer," Daryl pointed out, "And ya seem fine to me. But we both know y'ain't out here worrying about Glenn. If anything, it'd be Maggie. But she knows as well as you do that he'll pull through. So what is it?"

Rick frowned at his lap, both loving and hating how Daryl could read him so easily.

"Still dream about her, sometimes," Rick admitted.

"Lori?"

"Yeah. Hardly ever happened while we were on the road. Too sleep-deprived to dream. But now that we're settled…"

"We ain't talkin' about good dreams," Daryl said.

"No," Rick confirmed. "I...I loved her when I was young. Then, by the time Carl was going into Kindergarten, I didn't feel anything for her at all. Except frustration, maybe. We weren't going to save our marriage, I knew that, wasn't delusional about it. But I think...I _know_...that she died still thinking I hated her. I'm never going to be able to make that right."

"You're wrong," Daryl said.

Rick's head jerked in Daryl's direction, shooting the man a dangerous glare.

"You're wrong," Daryl maintained, "She knew you didn't hate her. Resented her, maybe, for a time. But didn't hate her."

"You don't know that."

"I do," Daryl said, "She told me."

Rick gaped at him. "When?"

"Before the prison. She probably talked to me just as much as you did, back then. Never had so many people yammering in my ear before."

"I never saw the two of you together," Rick said, frown deepening.

"That's 'cuz you made a point not to look her way at all, if you could help it," Daryl replied, shrugging. "Ain't tryin' to make things worse, or make out like you were in the wrong. She fucked up, and you needed time to get your head right. Nobody blamed you for that, least of all her. But I guess she got in her head that if she couldn't talk to you, I was the next best thing."

Rick dragged his fingers through his hair roughly. He dropped them back to his lap abruptly when he recognized it as something Shane used to do. "What did you talk about?"

"The fuckin' pregnancy, mostly," Daryl sighed, "Like I know shit about that. But even though Carol was on her side, for the most part, Lori still felt too guilty 'bout it to be happy around anyone but me. 'Cuz…" Daryl eyed Rick through his periphery, wincing slightly in anticipation, "'Cuz of who was likely to be that kid's Daddy. Not her Father- that's you, man, and there ain't no one who'd ever say otherwise- but timing-wise, she knew the baby had to be Shane's. You knew it too."

"She's mine," Rick agreed, "Even if she was his, she was always going to be my daughter."

"But she knew that you knew," Daryl explained, "So any time she'd feel the baby kick, maybe get excited for a second, she'd sober up real quick and try to hide it. But she didn't blame you for that, man. That was _her._ Guilt's a personal thing; ain't no one to blame but your own fuckin' mind." He sighed and tilted his head back, "She kept sayin' that she knew things would be okay. Knew because you were there, 'cuz you'd take care of it. And knew because the moment you saw the kid, things would start workin' again. Which was true, for the most part. She just wasn't around to see it."

"How come you never said anything?" Rick asked, "When...when she….?"

"Would it have helped?" Daryl countered, already knowing the answer. Rick settled in a little bit closer to him, melting into the warmth of Daryl's body. "Woulda said something sooner, though, if I'd known it was still keeping you awake at night."

"It's not the only thing," Rick laughed lowly, "And it hasn't come up in a while."

Daryl didn't need to question any further to understand what Rick was implying- the nightmares were coming back because of _him,_ because of _them_. The guilt of moving on from Lori with both body and mind.

But even as Daryl's body tensed up with that knowledge, Rick's went lax in acceptance. Lori hadn't died thinking he'd hated her. And the man who he was with now, the man pressed into his side, had made sure of it. It was the best confirmation he'd received since things with Daryl started that he was meant to be with the hunter. And the longer Rick sat, leaning into Daryl's side without the pressure of curious eyes around him, the more his mind drifted to the last time he and Daryl had been on this porch together.

Rick moved his hand from his own lap to Daryl's thigh and squeezed gently. It was an experiment, more than anything. And one that immediately failed when Daryl couldn't conceal the way he flinched, or how every muscle in his body tightened at once.

"Sorry," Rick immediately said, removing his hand.

"No, it's-" Daryl cut himself off, then let out a deep sigh. He fell forward onto his elbows and hung his head towards the ground, for a beat. Rick watched him closely, trying to predict where the other man's head was at.

Daryl hid his face in his hands and had to fight the urge to run. It seemed like he was always fighting against it, these days. Growing up, running had always been the smart thing. Run if you could, fight if you had to. But the prospect of running from Rick made his stomach clench painfully, and the idea of fighting him even more so.

Christ, it had just been a hand on his fucking leg. Wasn't like Rick was strangling him by the neck or going for his _back,_ God forbid. And he knew in his mind that Rick would never go after him like that, but his body was another story. That muscle memory of curling into a ball to protect himself, of digging his nails into blood-soaked as leather ripped into him, that didn't go away.

All Rick wanted was to pat him on the leg, but Daryl couldn't give it to him. The failure of it tasted sour in his mouth, and made him want to rip his hair out in chunks.

"I was just thinking," Rick said, trying to bring Daryl's focus back to him, "About the last time you and I were sitting on this porch together."

Daryl peered out at Rick from under his bangs, appraising him for a moment. It was a rapid shift of gears, but of course Rick would be taking all this in stride, while Daryl struggled with his own mind.

He stood abruptly, and Rick figured he'd lost his chance. Daryl dictated what they did and did not do together, after all, and Rick wasn't about to risk their relationship by testing the boundaries on it. But then Daryl grabbed Rick by the collar and jerked once, forcing the man to stand.

Rick stumbled to his feet, bewildered but eager, and let Daryl manhandle him until his ass met the banister.

"Hands behind your back, Officer," Daryl drawled, "That's what you want, ain't it? You can tell me."

"Always want you," Rick replied. And while for him it felt like something self-evident, the way Daryl's eyes widened made Rick feel as if he'd admitted something significant. So he pressed, "Want anything you'll give me. All the time." He caught those rapidly-darkening navy eyes, and made sure they were fixed on him and only him. "I want you. But I need you too. Need you so fucking much, Daryl."

One-handed, the archer flicked open his belt and whipped it off of his body. He leaned into Rick, tilting his head just slightly. And the latter licked his lips in anticipation, thinking maybe he'd finally gotten through to the younger man.

But close enough for Rick to stick his tongue out and taste, Daryl stopped, and reached behind Rick's body to wrap the belt around his hands, and fasten it to the banister. He stepped back and Rick watched, slack-jawed, as Daryl slowly fell to his knees in front of him.

"Out here?" Rick breathed.

Daryl smirked up at him and jerked open Rick's belt, pulled down his fly. "At least you won't have an audience, this time."

Rick shivered as Daryl pulled down his fly, and shoved his jeans down his body until his thighs were trapped in denim.

"I haven't-" Rick tried to get out, "Not since…" But in truth, even when he and Lori had been happy together, she'd hardly ever done this for him. When she did, it was a chore. A way to barter for something she wanted. A _favor_. But the way Daryl was looking up at him told Rick that for the archer, this act was anything but unwanted. "M'not gonna last," Rick finally settled on saying, "Been so long."

"You'll last long enough," Daryl said, "I'll make sure of it." And then he sucked the tip of Rick's cock into his mouth, and all the ex-Sheriff could do was moan.

Even after all the anticipation, the dozens of memories of Daryl's mouth and hands and body, the pleasure of Daryl's lips wrapped around him left Rick's knees weak. His hips bucked of their own accord, desperate for more sensation, but Daryl didn't gag. Instead, he hummed, grabbed Rick's hips with a grip that would surely bruise, and pulled him deeper.

"Oh my god," Rick choked out. He longed to thread his fingers into Daryl's hair. Not to guide or force him, but simply for that extra bit of contact.

From the first moment he looked down, he couldn't bear to look away. Daryl was staring right back up at him, blue eyes bright and intense. One hand was between Rick's legs, rubbing in slow circles at the mound of flesh between balls and ass. And with each bob of Daryl's head, he seamlessly took more silky flesh into his mouth.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me," Rick gasped. And even though Daryl couldn't quite smile around his length, Rick could _feel_ him laugh in response.

That low chuckle morphed into a purr, and Rick cried out, completely overwhelmed and _right fucking there_.

Daryl pulled off of him with a pop and wrapped a thumb and pointer finger tightly around the base of Rick's cock, staving off his release.

"Just 'cuz I'm on my knees for you don't mean you get to come without permission," Daryl growled, and Rick nodded breathlessly.

The archer reached a hand down to his own crotch and palmed over his hard cock, gazing up at Rick fiercely. He jerked open his cargoes and wrapped a hand around himself, stroked slowly as Rick watched. The heat of his breath against the older man's twitching cock was practically torture.

"You like watchin' me, don't you Rick?" Daryl groaned, bucking slightly into his fist. "All those months together, always catchin' you with your eyes on me. Couldn't figure out why. But it was this, huh baby? All that time, you were thinkin' about this."

Rick whined quietly. "Couldn't help it."

"What did you imagine me doing?" Daryl asked him, moaning a little himself as he began to stroke faster. "C'mon. You can tell me."

Rick's cock jumped, and precome oozed down the length of it. Daryl leaned forward, sly as could be, and lapped up the droplet before it reached his fingers.

"Tell me," Daryl demanded.

"Thought about what you'd look like, when you came. God, I thought about it all the time. I wanted to be the one to make you do it. Didn't matter if it was with my hands or my mouth or my ass, as long as I got to see you like that." Rick licked his lips, and forced his expression into something humble and pleading. "Let me touch you," Rick begged, "Wanna make you come, Daryl. Please. Please let me."

Daryl's face clenched up into something other than pleasure, briefly, but Rick hated whatever it was from the moment he saw it. He wanted to smooth his hands down Daryl's temple, soothe his worried brow. He wanted to take back everything he'd said, even if he wasn't quite sure what had turned Daryl's lust-bitten lip down into a frown.

"Nah," Daryl breathed after a moment, more a sigh than anything. "M'gonna come right where I am, with your cock in my mouth. And you ain't gettin' off 'til I do. That clear?"

"Yes," Rick was quick to say, despite his disappointment. "Just- please, Daryl. _Please._ "

So Daryl took Rick into his mouth, again. Took him as deep as he would go, and pumped his cock with the desperation of a dying man.

"God, Daryl," RIck moaned. His hands clenched into fists behind him, hips rolled towards the tight, wet warmth of Daryl's throat without his consent.

And Daryl was just as lost, bucking into his own fist and moaning one long note around Rick's length.

"Want you so bad, Daryl," Rick groaned, and in his mind's eye, he was stroking one hand over the younger man's cheek, "Never gonna stop."

Daryl's eyes slammed shut. His body went taut. And all at once he was coming in streaks over Daryl's calves, and moaning as he did it.

"Fuck," Daryl gasped, pulling back and sounding breathless enough to make the man above him proud. "Jesus Christ."

And before Rick's lips could curl into something triumphant, Daryl's mouth was back on him, bobbing fast and hard. A tongue curled around his length, swirled at the head, and Rick's thighs shook.

"Please!" he bit out, "Fuck, Daryl. _Please_. Please."

"That's it," Daryl pulled back just long enough to say, "Come for me."

And Rick did, moaning with his head thrown back. He thrust into Daryl's mouth, damning the consequences, and pulsed come each time Daryl hummed contentedly around his length. When it finally ended, Rick's legs still wouldn't stop shaking. His bound hands scrambled to catch onto the banister, and he panted open-mouthed.

Daryl stood up slowly. He winced a little when his knees cracked, and leaned into Rick to carefully remove his belt, threading it back through the loops of his cargoes.

Rick's eyes bore into the side of Daryl's face, and the latter didn't need to think twice to understand why. He took two long steps backward, and kept his eyes trained on the pristine stained wood of the porch floor.

"You don't want me to touch you," Rick said quietly, "Tying me like you do, it's not just about the control." It was more an epiphany than an accusation, but Daryl took it as the latter. He flinched away from Rick, crossed his hands protectively over his chest and refused to meet his gaze.

"I wish you'd told me," Rick tried, tilting his head to force eye contact.

"Why?" Daryl spat back angrily, "So you coulda stopped all this before it started?"

" _No_ ," Rick growled, "I wish you'd told me, because if I'd known you didn't want me to touch you, I wouldn't have kept pushing you for it!"

Daryl blinked, and finally looked him in the eye, brow furrowed.

"You…?"

"Daryl, c'mon. I never would have tried to force you into something you didn't want. You've got to know that. The reason I keep trying to touch you is that I thought, maybe, you wanted me to."

Daryl shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Ain't that I don't want it," he said softly.

"I've seen other people touch you," Rick pointed out, "A hug from Carol. A pat on the shoulder from Glenn. How come they're allowed to touch you, and I'm not?"

"Yeah, Glenn could clap a hand to my back without me flinching away like a pussy. Huge fucking accomplishment," Daryl spat. "This shit with you ain't the same. And you ain't stupid, Rick. You know that."

"I know it isn't. But I want you to tell me why. Just help me understand. Please."

Daryl dragged his fingers through his hair angrily. "Jesus Christ, why do ya always gotta _push_ , huh? Why can't you just accept that this is the way it's gotta be?"

"I do accept it. I do. I'll do whatever you need me to do, alright? I want to be with you. I just need to understand why."

The archer huffed out a breath through his nose and took another step back. He squared his jaw.

"Sex is different," Daryl said. "Different than getting a fuckin' hug from Carol."

"Vulnerable," Rick supplied, and Daryl nodded.

"When I was a kid, 'lil older than Carl, everybody at school was goin' off and losing their virginity. But me, I couldn't stand to be touched like that. I couldn't-" he cut himself off, eyes dropping to the ground and cheeks lighting up pink, "Couldn't keep it up. Didn't matter who I was with. Didn't matter what I took. Fuckin' hated it, to be honest. Hated myself, and hated it. You know bein' a teenager, everyone's always talkin' about sex. But I didn't get it, 'cuz letting someone else touch me didn't feel good. Not to me. Made me wanna crawl out of my skin."

"So what changed?" Rick prompted.

"Met a girl at a bar," Daryl said, "Met ain't the right word. She smacks into me and makes me drop my beer, and I'm already lit, so I lay into her good. I'm a dick when I drink. The two of us get kicked out, but then she's saying she wants to take me home with her."

"Why'd you go?"

Daryl shrugged. "Merle was still inside, and he had the keys to the truck. Thing is, we get back to her place and she's talkin' 'bout how I oughta punish her, for spilling my drink and all. She brought these cuffs out, and once she was tied up...I finally got what all the fuss was about. And I went at her with my belt, 'cuz she asked me to. Fucked her through the damn mattress. And since then, that's what works for me."

He looked at Rick, finally, face frozen into the grimace of a rejection half-formed.

"S'what I need," Daryl muttered, "And I get it if you ain't alright with that."

"That's not what I was saying," Rick said, taking a step forward, "That's not what I was saying at all. I'll do whatever you ask, Daryl. Be whatever you need. You can hold me to that. I just needed to understand why."

"Well," Daryl sighed, "That enough for you?"

Rick smiled softly. "It's enough." He took another step forward. "I want to kiss you."

Daryl frowned. "Rick, I just fuckin' said-"

"Not like that," Rick cut him off, "Not the way you're thinking."

"Then, what?"

"I don't want to kiss you like we're gonna have sex. That's the deal-breaker, right? I just want to kiss you because I can. Not to show you I want you to fuck me. Just to say...hello, good-bye, thank you. Will you let me do that?"

Daryl hesitated, still, but gnawed at his lower lip.

"Please," Rick repeated, and moved even closer to Daryl, more forward than he'd ever been, and hoped to God it didn't backfire. "Please, Daryl."

Daryl reached for Rick's belt and tugged gently. "Alright."

They melted into each other, and Rick couldn't help but smile into the kiss. His brain was screaming _victory_ , and his heart was soaring. Their mouths moved together slow and long.

And when they finally broke away from each other, Rick said, "I want to be able to do that. When we wake up in the morning. At the end of the day, when I finally get you alone. Do you think you could do that, for me?"

Daryl was flushed and toying absentmindedly with Rick's belt buckle.

"Ain't never done it before," Daryl said, "But I could try."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Rick's strongest memory from the farm wasn't killing Shane. It wasn't watching Dale die, or finding out about the affair, or even holding his son down as he seized on the bed. Those memories still crippled him every now and again, but the strongest was the first time he saw Daryl's scars. Rick had a lot of ideas on why that memory in particular invaded his thoughts so often, even before he'd seen Daryl as something more significant than a friend or ally.

His most prominent theory was that that had been the first time he'd really seen Daryl at all. The first time he'd understood- seen the whole picture. From then on, Daryl had become a constant source of fascination for him. Rick dissected every word and gesture, tried to trace every Daryl-ism he couldn't quite decipher back to that moment in Hershel's home. There was nothing to understand about Dale's death, heartbreaking as it was. And while Lori and Shane's betrayal broke him, he couldn't say it was unexpected. But Daryl's past was shrouded in mystery, his motives rarely clear. And even when Daryl took over the place at Rick's right hand, the older man was forever plagued with how much about Daryl he just didn't know. Maybe never would.

Rick remembered carrying Daryl into the house- the last time he could recall working with Shane for any type of goal that didn't end in conflict. He remembered the sheer panic in Daryl's eyes when Hershel made to cut off his shirt, with so many people still in the room. Hershel, wise even beyond his considerable years, had grasped the problem when Rick couldn't. He sent Shane to tell the others Daryl would be fine. Told Patricia he wouldn't be needing her. And had Rick step into the adjacent room to retrieve some bandages and ointment.

When Rick returned, he froze in the doorway. Daryl's bare back was to him, and the ex-Sheriff couldn't seem to suck in a full breath. He was a cop, at least he used to be one, and he knew what those marks meant. Didn't know the story of them, the specifics, but he knew.

He composed himself, and sat down on the opposite side of the archer, where the prone man could easily see him. And he let Daryl tell him about Sophia's doll, and pretended not to notice how Daryl flinched each time Hershel's hands made contact with his skin.

Later, when he came back upstairs after dinner, he heard Hershel speaking to Daryl lowly. Rick stopped outside the door, not wanting to intrude, but also desperate to overhear.

"I've got some Vicodin," Hershel was telling him. "They'll knock you out for the evening, but sleep is exactly what you need at the moment. And seeing as you've just eaten-"

"M'good," Daryl rasped. It sounded like he was talking around his thumb, as Rick had heard him do more times than he could count.

"You fell down a cliff, got an arrow through your side, and got shot in the head- and you don't want anything for the pain?" Hershel asked, "Son, you don't have to grit your teeth through it. If this is about using our supplies…"

"It ain't. And I ain't your son," Daryl said shortly.

There was a long pause before Hershel said, "My father was an angry drunk. He terrorized my mother and I for years; beat us with anything he could get his hands on. When he kicked me out of the house at sixteen, I was glad, even if I couldn't convince my mother to leave with me. So you can imagine, maybe, what it felt like to take to drinking myself, many years later. I've been sober now for even longer, and I never hurt my family physically. But I live every day knowing I have that capacity inside me to become my father, if my life was to take a turn for the worst."

"Why you tellin' me all this?" Daryl asked. Rick thought his voice sounded strained, at best.

"Because you don't seem to me like the type of man who would slip like I have in the past. And two pills won't change who you are," Hershel replied. "You need to take them."

"Don't need to do shit," Daryl hissed, "And you can quit it with you're fuckin' bonding moment. You don't know me. Don't know a fuckin' thing. So why don't you leave me be so I can get some rest?"

There was a creak of floorboards as Hershel stood. "I hope you'll change your mind."

The door opened, and Rick jumped back from it like a scolded child, face flaming red.

"Rick, I'm glad you're here," Hershel said, immediately dismissing his embarrassment. "Daryl's refusing pain medications. Perhaps you could sit with him awhile. Give them to him, if he changes his mind."

"I could do that," Rick replied.

Hershel made his way towards the stairs, then stopped short. "And Rick- I don't have to explain anything about what you saw earlier, do I?"

"You don't."

Hershel nodded at him, and Rick crept into the room where Daryl still lay.

"Goddamnit," Daryl groused. His back was towards the door. "I said I wasn't gonna-"

He cut himself short when he saw it was Rick standing in the doorframe, and the older man could have sworn he saw a flush burst at the archer's cheeks.

"Wasn't going to what?" Rick asked him, resuming his spot by Daryl's bed.

"Nothin'," Daryl muttered, thumb in his mouth again. "What are you doin' here? Ain't you got a kid and a wife that need lookin' after?"

"I wanted to check on you," Rick said, ignoring the latter question, "See if you needed anything."

"Well, I don't."

Rick sat back in his chair and propped his feet up on the bed.

"So," he began casually, "How come you won't take the pills?"

"Ah, Christ. Not you too," Daryl grumbled, "I ain't takin' them!"

"Okay."

"I'm not."

"That's fine."

"Ain't gonna change my mind."

"I get it. No pills," Rick said. "Why?"

"I said I wasn't gonna-!"

"Daryl," Rick interjected calmly, "You don't want to take them. I hear you. I'm not asking you to. But can you tell me why?"

Daryl deflated at that, and fiddled with the edge of his blanket. "Don't matter," he muttered.

"You're insisting on lying here in pain. That matters."

Daryl's eyes darted towards him, then back down, hiding in the folds of the sheets. His hands kept rubbing at his shoulder, reaching for the strap of a crossbow that wasn't there. And finally, Rick thought maybe he understood.

"Daryl," Rick tried softly, "If I stayed here tonight, would you be able to take the pills then?"

Daryl's eyes jerked towards him, and he was frowning, but not out of anger. So Rick continued.

"You don't need to be in pain. I don't like seeing you that way. So what if I stayed tonight, right here in this chair? Do you think then you could take those pills, get some rest?"

Daryl bit at his lower lip with enough ferocity that Rick was sure it would bleed. But then he mumbled, "I could do that."

And he couldn't quite meet Rick's eye, but that was fine, because maybe that also meant he couldn't see how wide Rick was smiling.

"Great," Rick said, handing him the pills and some water. "That's great, Daryl."

It made sense. Fuck, of course it did. Daryl was a survivor in the purest sense, and even injured as he was, he'd never choose to incapacitate himself further. The archer wouldn't let his guard down. Not for a couple minutes, let alone hours.

But with Rick sitting vigil, Daryl could relax. He could let himself be vulnerable. Because the man by his side understood just what he was offering. Daryl took the pills, and fell asleep soon after. For a long time, Rick watched him sleep. Noted how much younger he looked, when his face wasn't so guarded and hard.

When his back began to ache and his throat went dry, Rick took a short break to pop down the hall for some water. But when he returned, Daryl wasn't nearly as peaceful as when Rick had left him. The archer was curled into himself in the center of the bed. He'd kicked the sheets down past his feet, and was laid out on his stomach, twitching and whimpering quietly.

It was a nightmare. Had to be. But it seemed just as intense, if not more so, as the night terrors Carl'd had when he was younger. Daryl's face was contorted into an expression that screamed _pain_ and _fear_ , and Rick couldn't just stand by and watch it happen.

"Daryl," Rick whispered. He tip-toed to the edge of the bed and placed his hand palm-down between the younger man's shoulders in a way he hoped would be soothing.

Apparently, it wasn't. Daryl's entire body tensed, then snapped as he scrambled towards the opposite side of the bed.

"Stop. _Stop,_ " Daryl begged, sounding so much younger than the man Rick knew. His eyes were half-lidded, and Rick was sure that Daryl wasn't entirely awake or aware.

"Daryl," Rick tried again, keeping his hands to himself this time. "Shh, Daryl, wake up. You're okay. Just wake up, now."

Daryl pulled himself the rest of the way up and clutched his knees to his chest, panting hard.

"Daryl," Rick whispered as he sat down on the edge of the bed. It made Daryl flinch again, and he cursed himself inwardly. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not."

"Don't," Daryl gasped, "Don't do that. Don't-"

"I won't touch you again," Rick promised. He dipped his head to force eye contact. "Swear I won't. Just tell me what to do. I want to help, Daryl. Tell me how to help you."

As Rick spoke, Daryl's breathing slowed. So the ex-Sheriff went with it. "Maybe we can just talk for a while, huh? Maybe that would help?"

It took a while, but Daryl eventually mumbled, "M'fine," in a voice so quiet Rick could barely hear him.

"Yeah?" Rick replied, disbelieving. "Why don't you lie down, then? Sitting hunched over like that can't be doing any good to that wound in your side."

Daryl eyed him warily for several long moments, before slowly sliding down to the center of the bed and curling onto his side. He winced slightly as he did it, but Rick nodded his approval.

"That's better, huh?" Rick said. Daryl was still too tense, seized up tight enough that it had to hurt. "Do you want to talk about it? Or…" he trailed off when Daryl whimpered from the back of his throat, tried to muffle it by hiding his face in the sheets.

"Okay, not that, then…" Rick said. "What if I…" Keeping his movements slow and predictable, Rick reached out towards Daryl's face and carded his fingers through the archer's hair. Daryl remained tense, at first. Then shivered more violently than Rick would have liked. But after a few gentle strokes, he relaxed into the bed, and Rick couldn't help but grin.

"It's something I used to do for Carl," Rick explained quietly, "Whenever he had nightmares, before all this." He looked down, and saw that Daryl's eyes were closed. "I'm not going anywhere," Rick promised him, "You can sleep, alright? I'm gonna be right here."

So Daryl slept, and Rick watched over him. The next morning, they wouldn't speak of it. In fact, Rick would be wholly surprised when Daryl met his eye and shot him a firm and meaningful nod before heading back to his own tent. But that night, their relationship shifted. And Rick was so fucking glad.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When they were on the road, the worst, most life-threatening moments always seemed to stretch out over hours. A split-second walker attack would take days. It had to, or they never would have survived.

Which is why Rick was surprised by how quickly Daryl went from seething and silent to grappling on the floor with some mouthy Alexandrian named Carter. It was too fast for him to stop it, without that same knee-jerk reaction that had kept him alive outside Alexandria's walls. One thing he knew for sure was that Daryl had instigated this fight in defense of _him,_ because the man currently clawing at Daryl's chest questioned Rick's leadership.

And they would need to deal with people like Carter. Would most likely need to deal with Carter specifically, pull him aside and make him see sense. But it shouldn't have happened like this. Certainly shouldn't have come to cuffs with half of the town standing around and watching.

Rick was a half-second from having his arms around Daryl when the scream of ripping fabric echoed out like a gunshot. And Daryl just _froze_.

Because this was so much worse than what had happened with Merle. So many people with their eyes on his bare back. None of them family. And at least with his brother, Daryl had known the fucker would get it. Feel guilty, sure, but he'd understand. These suburban idiots wouldn't know, couldn't fathom what it's like to be bound to a tree in your backyard and whipped for hours by a man who couldn't stand to look at you. Who still called himself 'Dad,' even with that fucking belt in his hands.

He was shaking, but he didn't know it. And for the dozens of times Rick had thought back to that night at Hershel's farm, he recognized that the last thing he should try is to touch Daryl right now. But he did get close, closer than the rest of them would dare, so he could murmur in Daryl's ear.

"It's okay," Rick told him, "Just head home. Look in on Carl and Judy for me. I'll be there soon."

It wasn't okay. Not in the fucking least. Daryl walked down the street slowly, crossbow slung over his back to hide what little it could. Each step was measured and purposeful, and Rick got the supreme sense that Daryl was fighting the urge to run.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl wasn't inside when Rick returned home a short while later. Couldn't stand to be, it seemed, from the frenzied way he was pacing back and forth across the backyard. He'd put on a new shirt, Rick noted in passing as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

The archer was still a ball of rage, and the low evening sun seemed to steam as it struck his skin. Still, Rick thought he looked as beautiful as ever. But good luck on convincing Daryl the same.

"Get the fuck away from me, Rick," Daryl snapped, before Rick could say a word. His feet never stopped moving.

"Sent Carl and Judy over to the neighbors," Rick said, unfazed, "That old couple on the corner. The rest of the family is still meeting with Deanna. Planning. Thought I could step out for a while, get a breather."

"Don't want you here," Daryl bit out.

"Yeah, I got that. Funny how I'm here anyways."

"You wanna get into somethin', Officer? Don't think I'll go easy on you just 'cuz we fuck around now."

"I'll do whatever you need me to do," Rick said.

"I need you to leave."

"That's what you want. It's not what you need."

"Yeah? And what the fuck would you know?" Daryl shouted, "Nagging me like my fucking wife, when I know a few weeks back you were practically a virgin. Telling me how you've never been rough before, let alone been with a man, and you think you know what _I_ need?"

Rick flinched but held his ground, "I'm not leaving."

"I'll hurt you, Rick," Daryl growled, pushing into his space, "I'll beat you into the fucking ground."

They were chest to chest, so Rick did the only thing he could. He jerked forward and crashed their lips together.

Daryl grabbed him by either shoulder with a grip that bit right down to his bone. He pulled Rick closer, and spun the older man around into the wall, shoving their bodies together. Daryl kissed him hard, like he was aiming to bruise, and Rick took it.

He reached down and fingered Daryl's belt. "You could use it," Rick whispered, "I know we said you wouldn't like that, not anymore. But if it's what you need...I'll do it, Daryl. You know I would."

"You'd do it, but you wouldn't want it," Daryl said, refusing to meet Rick's eye.

"That's not true," Rick replied, "With this...I want what you want."

Daryl pulled himself a few inches back. "I don't want it," he said resolutely, "Not now. When it's the whole fuckin' reason I'm feelin' like this anyways."

"Then what do you need me to do?"

Daryl closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Rick's. He took the older man's hands and moved them to his belt. "Distract me."

Rick nodded. "I can do that."

He leaned in for another kiss and fumbled to work open both their flies. Wrapped a spit-slick hand around their lengths and groaned at the way Daryl's face fell open. His furrowed brow went slack on his face, his shoulders slumped, and Daryl let Rick support him entirely.

"Yeah," Daryl breathed, "Like that. Distract me like that."

"You could have more, if you wanted. I'd give it to you," Rick said, already short of breath as he watched their cocks move together.

"Told you I wouldn't fuck you as punishment."

"Doesn't have to be a punishment. I have a hard time believing it could be, with you."

"Wouldn't risk it. Not when I'm…" Daryl trailed off, closing his eyes again. He pumped his hips into Rick's fist. "C'mon, faster. Make me come. Make it good for me. I know ya know how."

It was easy enough for Rick to comply, spitting into his palm again so their hard dicks could slide against each other with the perfect amount of friction.

Daryl bit at his lip, eyelids fluttering, so Rick sucked that lip into his mouth until Daryl groaned. He reached a hand up, slow and predictable, and tangled his fingers into Daryl's too-long hair.

"Beautiful," Rick murmured, combing through those unruly locks gently.

Blue eyes darted up to him, pupils blown wide. But the younger man wasn't angry. Confused, maybe, but more like startled, out of his element and unsure of how to proceed. And someday, there would be a time and place for Rick to convince him that what he'd just said was true. But he knew better than to attempt it when the archer was already so on edge.

Instead, Rick sucked an angry mark just under Daryl's collar. He jerked them both faster, harder, until Daryl was squirming against him.

"M'close," the archer gasped, hips juddering without rhythm. He leaned into Rick's touch, the hand now cupping the side of his neck. "Need you to do it first. Show me you want it. _Show me_."

And with Daryl asking him for something for the first time, -not demanding, not quite, but stating a need with the hope Rick could meet it- Rick finally found his peak.

"Oh God," Rick moaned as he came, "Fuck, Daryl. _Fuck._ "

"Yes," Daryl hissed. He latched his teeth onto Rick's neck and followed right after him, pumping his hips and depending on Rick to keep them both standing.

When they both caught their breath, Rick's hand was still in Daryl's hair.

"Is this okay?" Rick whispered.

Daryl nodded slowly. "Ain't so bad, when it's you."

"About today…"

"Don't," Daryl cut him off, "Just don't say anything, alright? There ain't nothin' _to_ say. Tell anyone who asks I got 'em in prison. Gang initiation. Or don't tell them a thing. But I don't want anyone else looking at me like I'm weak."

Clothing back in place, Daryl pushed away from Rick and turned for the house. Rick caught him by the shoulder, dangerous as it was.

"I've never looked at you that way," Rick said slowly, mouth moving carefully around each word.

It took Daryl several long moments to answer.

"Know you haven't," Daryl said without turning back fully, "Thanks."

Daryl disappeared into the house while Rick's smile was still tight across his face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"Tell me your word," Daryl said, because these things always started the same way.

First, the sub says the word out loud. Then, Daryl repeats it. Makes sure it's known, understood. "What will you say if you need me to stop?" Daryl asks them then, and they say the word again. Huskier, this time. A little more breathless as the anticipation grows.

Daryl would ask, and the sub would respond just the way he liked, or they'd be left high and dry. That was the rule. It had always been as firm a law as "thou shalt not kill," though Daryl had broken that particular commandment more than once over the past few years. Only when it was necessary, and only when his back was pressed up against a wall. But still.

Still, the first time Daryl had broken that rule, the one he'd promised himself he'd never deign to cross from a young age, he'd wondered about himself. Wondered what other rules he might break, given the opportunity. Given the need, or the desire.

He wondered, but he never worried. Not until Rick came for him that first time.

Now, Daryl felt perpetually restless, wound so tight the smallest thing might snap him in half. Not just because he hated the complacent, counterfeit safety of Alexandria's walls. And not just because Rick seemed to be inching closer and closer to the edge of something Daryl wasn't sure he could pull the man back from him. No, the tension mounting inside of him stemmed from a fight for control. One side of him wanted to give Rick everything. Comfort him, touch him gently, trust that he'd be touched even more gently in return.

The other side wanted to beat Rick bloody. Burn him, bind him, fucking destroy him until all that was left was Daryl's name on Rick's lips and the knowledge that he was owned.

But he couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that to Rick. His best friend, his brother. The man who'd accepted everything of him, even these desires he'd kept locked in a cage deep in his chest, stifled for so long and so thoroughly that he'd thought maybe, just maybe, they had finally died.

Daryl woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Literally. Rick was gone, took off sometime in the hazy hours before dawn, and Daryl had rolled onto the other man's side and buried his face in Rick's pillow. All at once, Daryl was awake and aware and tense from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Not knowing where Rick was always felt wrong.

And when Daryl did finally figure out just where Rick had went off to, that feeling went from bad to worse. Glenn was awake. Beaten to hell and still looking exhausted, but lucid enough to tell the group just what had happened to him out in the woods. Just what that motherfucking _Nicholas_ had done.

He was livid. More furious than he'd been when Rick had held him back from beating that same son of a bitch into the ground when he'd attacked Glenn out in the middle of the street just a week before. Daryl was a half-second from volunteering as executioner when Glenn dropped a bomb. He didn't want Nicholas punished. Didn't want anyone acknowledging what he'd done at all. Glenn wanted to do the "right thing," and let that sorry motherfucker off skate free.

Daryl was ready to back Rick up. They couldn't just let something like that slide, not when Nicholas had tried to _kill_ Glenn. Not just rile him up, not just hurt him, but kill him. There couldn't be forgiveness for that, these days. Not when every day was a knock-down drag-out fight to survive. Rick would tell him. Rick would tell all of them.

But then, he didn't.

Rick nodded. Told Glenn that it was his call, but Nicholas would be his responsibility.

And when Daryl heard that, he could barely breathe through the anger.

He stormed out of the infirmary, nabbing his crossbow up off the steps as he went. He charged right towards the gate, growled at whatever dumbass Alexandrian was manning it that day, then b-lined straight for the woods.

Daryl didn't look back, either. But he could hear that someone was following him. Knew their steps like he knew every curve and crevice of his crossbow.

He stopped just far enough past the tree-line that no one from the fences could possibly see him, and said to the person behind him, "Go back."

"Not gonna happen," came the curt reply, and that disobedience snapped the last of Daryl's resolve.

"You'll do what I fucking tell you to do," Daryl growled, rounding on Rick with a predatory glare. "That's the fucking deal. You agreed to that."

"I promised I'd follow your lead in bed, not in life," Rick replied. "You know that."

"I know you're a defiant little shit, that's what I know," Daryl seethed. "Why are you out here, anyways? Shouldn't you be cosying on up to Deanna's asshole? Telling her how Nicholas is such a stand up guy, for bringing Glenn back in one piece?"

"Hey- we weren't there. Glenn was. We've got to trust his judgment on this."

"Like hell we do. That son of a bitch tried to _kill_ him. What kind of message do you think we're sending when we don't do shit about it?"

"The message is that we believe people can change," Rick said, "I have. So have you."

"Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that," Daryl muttered. He began to pace a circuit around Rick's body, like a wolf scanning for points of weakness. "You know what Merle used to call guys like him? Shit in a burning bag. 'Cuz one day he's gonna set himself on fire, and we're all gonna burn up with him trying to save the dumbass. And the ones that don't end up ashes? Well all they'll find inside the bag is a pile of shit. Nothin' worth saving. _That's_ what he is."

"Glenn doesn't think so."

"Glenn's a dumbass! Same as his new friend. You need to fuckin' tell him, Rick. It's gonna get him killed."

"I'm not telling him anything. He made his choice."

Daryl took a step closer, eyes glinting dangerously. "You're gonna tell him," he growled again, voice rough as gravel.

"No."

The woods went quiet between them. So quiet that Daryl could almost hear the last vestiges of his control crumbling away.

He hurled himself at Rick like a hurricane, landing two hits to his gut before stepping hard enough on the top of his left foot to send Rick curling forward. Daryl shoved off of him, took a step back, chest heaving.

"Tell me your word."

Rick blinked at him. "What?"

Daryl jerked back towards him and cracked his knuckles into Rick's side, sending the man reeling.

"You got two choices here, Rick. You can tell me your word, or you can turn your ass around and fuck off back to Alexandria."

"Red," Rick replied. Like it was instinct. Like he didn't have a choice in the matter.

"Red," Daryl repeated, "And what are you gonna say, if you need me to stop?"

"Red," Rick said again, more insistent.

Leveling Daryl's gaze, Rick squared off his shoulders and stood up straight again. He knew this was a risk, knew it from the unhinged look in Daryl's eyes, and the way he couldn't seem to stand still, like he was on the brink of something big and painful.

There were supposed to be rules for this kind of thing. A scene was always discussed first, not dove into at the spur of the moment. Rick knew, even from his limited knowledge imparted by porn and Playboy magazines, that this type of thing was always plotted out, so both parties knew exactly what to expect. Or at the very least, what was expected of them. So more than anything, Rick knew this was a risk. But he needed to give himself to Daryl like he needed air to breathe.

"Come at me, then," Daryl said, "C'mon!"

Rick charged at Daryl with his head up, the way Shane had taught him back in high school, and brought them both crashing to the ground. It was immediately clear that Daryl had been hoping for just that, when he hooked a leg over Rick and hefted himself on top of the older man, pinning him by the center of his shoulder blades, and using his free hand to shove Rick's face down into the dirt.

"That all you got?" Daryl taunted him. His hips rocked forward of their own accord, and Rick could feel how hard he was.

Rick hedged his bets. "You fight like a bitch," he said, and flung his head back.

Daryl let out a sharp grunt of pain and went careening off to the side, holding a hand to his nose. And Rick took advantage of his temporary distraction, bringing an elbow down to Daryl's guts, then stomping down hard enough on the younger man's calf to make him cry out.

Still, Daryl wasn't giving up easy. He grabbed Rick by the ankle and twisted hard, barked out a laugh when Rick fell to the ground. Rick had hardly gotten his wits back about him when he felt Daryl hauling him up by the armpits. He was shoved back into the trunk of a tree, hard enough that it made white stars flash beneath his eyelids as his head cracked against it. The blow left Rick reeling, and he cringed, knowing more hits would soon be coming now that he couldn't properly defend himself.

But to his surprise, Daryl shoved away from him and back several steps. His eyes were ice black and narrow, pupils blown wide.

"Take it off," Daryl said. "All of it. I want you naked like the slut you are."

The prospect of disobedience never crossed Rick's mind. He unbuckled his belt and holster and dropped them to the forest floor. Nearly popped the buttons off his shirt in his effort to shrug it off, and let his jeans pool at his ankles before kicking them to the side. Daryl licked his lips as he watched him, eyes focused wholly on his body, and Rick wondered again just how much of Daryl's control was still intact.

But as soon as Rick was down to his boots, Daryl was on him, manipulating his body until Rick's back was to Daryl's front. Daryl hooked one strong arm across Rick's chest and held him like that, imprisoned, loving it.

"Open," Daryl growled, before shoving two fingers into Rick's mouth. "Get 'em nice and wet."

Rick did. Couldn't much help it with the way he was salivating, feeling Daryl vibrating presence so close to him. When Daryl was satisfied he wrenched his fingers free, dragged them down the lean body in front of him, and unceremoniously plunged them deep inside Rick.

It stung. It did, but Rick had expected it. But just as he'd anticipated the discomfort, maybe even some pain, he knew without a doubt that Daryl would make it good.

Some rough scissoring, a purposeful crook of fingers, and Rick was letting out a deep groan. He clung to the arm still hooked around him, bucked back against Daryl's hand.

"Daryl!"

"I'm gonna make you come like this," Daryl promised. "Come all over yourself, just from my fingers in your ass. Tell me you want it."

Daryl's fingers were unrelenting. Pressing hard to Rick's prostate with practiced ease and leaving the older man breathless, cock hard and dripping.

"I want it," Rick gasped, "I want it. I want it."

" _Beg_ ," Daryl growled, and his fingers pressed and pressed and pressed to that one spot.

They weren't safe. Not out here in the open, and especially not with Rick's weapons in a pile on the ground. He wasn't safe, except he was because Daryl had him. Daryl would protect him, make him whole and right and take everything else away. Something in Rick shook loose, and he sagged in Daryl's arms.

Rick could feel himself drifting. He'd come close to the feeling before, with Daryl, this disconnect where nothing existed outside of Daryl's hands on his body. But the prospect of giving away those last tendrils of control had always been something frightening, something to fight back against, even if he'd enjoyed every last second Daryl had spent touching him in the past. Now, Rick thought he might be floating.

"Please, Daryl," Rick moaned, "Please let me come. Your fingers feel so good. You always make me feel so good. Please, Daryl. Make me come for you."

The words poured of out of Rick's mouth without any conscious effort to pull them forth. It would have been worrying, if not for the bright pleasure of Daryl's fingers inside of him, the solid feel of Daryl pressed to his back.

"Who do you belong to?" Daryl asked him.

"You," Rick replied, immediate, desperate, "I'm yours."

"That's right," Daryl said, groaning himself as he fucked into Rick's pliant body. "You're mine. You're all fucking mine, and I- Christ, Rick- you've got no idea…"

To Rick's sex-drunk mind, it sounded like Daryl was teetering on the edge of some kind of confession. The lucid part of his brain wanted to urge Daryl forwards, push him gently to cross that line, speak. But Rick was too far gone.

"I'm yours!" Rick moaned, "I'm yours. I'm yours. Take what's yours. Make me yours. Make me- God, make me, _please_ -"

"Do it," Daryl demanded, fingers moving inside Rick like that was their home. "Come. _Now._ "

And Rick came. He came in Daryl's arms, cock pulsing untouched, spurt after spurt escaping him until sticky trails streamed down the length of him. Rick came and came, and whimpered while he did. Never once stopped moaning Daryl's name.

Daryl's hands left Rick's body all at once, and the ex-Sheriff fell to his knees. He watched as Daryl stepped around to face him, fly already undone and hard cock twitching in the open air.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth," Daryl told him, "Gonna fuck it 'til you gag, 'til you're crying like a virgin. And you're gonna take it, you hear me?"

"I can take it," Rick promised. "I want it." And then, after a moment's pause. "I'll be good."

If Rick had blinked he would have missed it, but some of the anger and tension in Daryl's face melted away at those words.

"You will," Daryl said, tone the closest to gentle that Rick had heard from him that day, "You're always good for me. You're perfect, Rick. You're perfect and you're mine."

Rick opened his mouth for Daryl, wanting, euphoric, and Daryl slid in deep. He held himself like that, throbbing in the back of Rick's throat, and watched the other man's eyes. Rick's face was completely relaxed, shoulders slumped naturally. His hands hung perfectly still at his sides. He was doing everything Daryl had ever asked of him, everything he knew Daryl wanted. But what really got to the younger man were Rick's eyes, so bright and trusting that Daryl couldn't help it.

His hips jerked forward. Then again, and again, until he was fucking Rick's face just like he had promised, moaning too loud and too high at how perfect it all was. Rick groaned around Daryl's length, his own cock already hardening between his legs as he let Daryl use his body, take what he needed. It only took a few minutes for Daryl's rapid pace to stutter, for his hips to buck and hands to tighten in Rick's hair.

"Fuck," Daryl moaned, "Fuck, _Rick._ "

He came so hard his knees shook, in torrents down Rick's throat. It dribbled out the side of his mouth, made those perfect blue eyes water until tears spilled down his cheeks. But still, he kept swallowing. Swallowed and swallowed until Daryl tugged himself out of Rick's mouth all at once, slouching back into the tree trunk and panting through the aftershocks with his eyes closed.

It took Daryl a long time- too long- to come back to himself. But when he did, Rick was still kneeling there. Cock a strained rosy color, hands clenched at his sides, body trembling. _Shit._

"Please," Rick was saying, "Please, Daryl. Please let me...I- I want to be good. Please. Please."

Daryl hastily tucked himself away and dropped down to the forest floor, pulling Rick up and into his lap. He'd always been shit at aftercare. It was the biggest complaint he'd gotten from his subs in the past, and the main reason a lot of them hadn't paid him a second visit. Because while he craved isolation after the scene's close, they wanted contact, reassurance. He'd seen men and women dive headlong into subdrop at his feet more times than any self-respecting dom ever should. And Rick was right on the cusp of it, but he didn't deserve that. Not him.

"Shh, c'mere," Daryl drawled. He ran one hand up and down Rick's back, holding him close. "You were so good, Rick. So good for me. So perfect." He wrapped a hand around Rick's angry cock, so hard and hot in his hand. "I'm gonna make you come now, alright? You were so good for me, think you deserve to come again."

"Please," was all Rick could seem to say, "Please, Daryl."

"I know, I"ve got you." He began to pump his hand loosely over Rick, keeping in mind that he was still sensitive. He smiled when Rick began to rock up into it, letting out choked off whimpers whenever Daryl's palm would graze over the slick head.

But then Rick was shifting in his arms, leaning up until they were nose to nose, eyes still wet.

"Let me touch you," Rick begged. His voice sounded broken, and Daryl was fairly certain he wasn't anywhere close to fully coherent. "Let me touch you. Let me _kiss_ you. Please Daryl. Please. I need you. God, I need to be closer to you."

If Rick had been of a sounder mind, he would have felt Daryl freeze underneath him. Because they'd talked about this. In detail. And being touched like that was a hard line Daryl had refused to cross. Refused, then felt no greater relief than when Rick had accepted it.

But Rick wasn't here right now. Not really. Not the Rick who Daryl trusted like he trusted the sky to continue hanging above him. And it was Daryl's fault. Daryl had done this to him, wrecked him and hallowed him out and left him a shattered mess that could only be made whole again by something Daryl wasn't willing to give.

Except...Daryl had done this. Rick had tears streaming down his face and he was shaking like a leaf and it was Daryl's fault.

"Alright," Daryl said quietly. His voice warbled, and he closed his eyes. "It's alright, Rick. You can...you can touch me."

Rick sprung into action. The part of him that might have recognized the look on Daryl's face as fear wasn't functioning, not when he was still in that floating headspace, so close to having what he wanted. He pawed open Daryl's shirt, ran his hands greedily over sweat-damp skin. Rick's mouth careened into Daryl's, enthusiastic even when the younger man failed to return the gesture.

He took and took, and Daryl kept working him slowly, even when the feel of Rick's mouth on his neck made him flinch, even when the feel of fingers slinking around to his back made tears spring to his eyes. Daryl wanted to shove Rick away from him, to beg him to stop. But what he wanted more than that was for this to be over, to make Rick right again and go back to keeping the parts of himself that wanted Rick ruined like this locked the fuck away.

So Daryl stroked Rick, stroked him until his back arched, lips locked over Daryl's collar bone. He came over Daryl's quivering fingers with a relieved sigh, his fingernails digging into the small of Daryl's back.

Rick went limp on top of Daryl, panting. When he finally picked his head up a few minutes later, blinking rapidly in confusion, the younger man's face was still wet.

"Daryl…"

"It's fine. I'm fine," Daryl croaked, hoarse like he'd been screaming. He let out a harsh breath through his nose. "Need you to get dressed. We're already pushin' our luck, being out here for so long, like this."

Daryl adamantly refused to meet Rick's gaze, so the latter stood, cautiously, and pulled on his clothing. It didn't take long, and when he turned back around, Daryl had his head curled into his knees on the ground.

"You really hate it that much when I touch you?" Rick asked him in a small voice, before he could hold himself back.

Daryl's angry eyes jerked up to meet him. "Don't say it like that. Like there's somethin' wrong with me. I told you that's just how I am, how it's got to be. You said it was alright."

"I know I did. It is, just...God, Daryl, why did you let me do that? I may as well have hurt you and I- I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Stop. It wasn't your fault. I pushed you. Started shit when I knew I shouldn't. Not supposed to do a scene when you're angry, ya know? Not me. I'm the one who's supposed to be in control. I messed up."

"I could have said no," Rick said. "Headed back to Alexandria, when you told me to."

"You wouldn't have. I knew that," Daryl replied. "I was pissed, and I wanted to fight. Always do when I'm angry, or sad, or fucking anything really. It's what I'm used to. But I wanted to fight, and I wanted to fuck too, and that ain't right. I shoulda known better. I'm the one who's supposed to know better."

"I could have safeworded out. I didn't."

"Like you ever would," Daryl scoffed, "And that's the problem, ain't it? You trust me too much. Wouldn't realize I'd gone too far until it was too late. You didn't, today."

"And you don't trust me at all."

Daryl frowned at him. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"You won't let me touch you. And, what happened with Glenn-"

"Those are two completely different things," Daryl cut him off. "What happened with Glenn was me pissed off. I get like that, especially when assholes go after the people I care about. But if I didn't trust you, I woulda gone off and _done_ something about it, not come out here to cool down. As for the other thing...I don't trust anyone with that. It ain't about you, alright? I just can't."

Rick was quiet for a moment, before he said, "I'm still sorry."

Daryl nodded jerkily and let out a sad laugh. "Yeah, me too." He stood up slowly, purposefully avoiding Rick's gaze. "I can get my stuff out of the house tonight. Stay on Aaron and Eric's couch, I bet."

"Fuck that," Rick shot back, "You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Daryl's expression turned from stony to confused. "You don't want me to go?"

"No," Rick breathed. "No, Daryl, how can you think that? This- we fucked up. We both did. That doesn't mean we just give up."

"I just don't know…"

"Don't know what?"

"Don't know how many times you'll let me fuck up before it's too much. And this...you're family, man. I can't lose- _fuck._ I'd give up the sex, ya know? But you, the rest of the group, I can't lose that."

"I'd give it up too, if you asked me," Rick said, "But I don't want to. And you won't lose any of us. This was a hiccup. It's not the end, not the end of anything."

"I hurt you," Daryl said in a soft voice, "I hurt you just because I was mad. _Fuck_ …"

"I hurt you too," Rick pressed, "Just in a different way."

"You didn't know what you were sayin'-"

"I knew enough," Rick replied, "I wasn't some 'undead bastard'. I knew, and I hurt you. But I still trust you, Daryl. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," Daryl rasped. "Yeah, I trust you."

"Then can you answer a question for me?"

Daryl grunted the affirmative, wary, but eager to right things however he could.

"You not wanting to be touched, that's not a just a _preference_ , is it?" Rick asked cautiously, "You reacting the way you did…"

Rick phrased it as a question, but the inflection wasn't there. He trailed off and watched Daryl's expression shift.

"No," Daryl admitted after a beat, "Not just a preference."

"Okay," Rick said, "That's all I needed to know." He picked up Daryl's crossbow off the ground and handed it to him. "Now, I say we head on back to the house and have ourselves a shower and an early dinner. You game?"

Daryl slung the crossbow over his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

It took several days of Rick and Daryl tip-toeing around each other for things between them to settle. Rick would jump and apologize any time he so much as brushed up against Daryl without a warning, and Daryl wouldn't touch him at all, too frightened of what he was capable of.

With any of his past conquests, the sobbing mess Daryl had reduced Rick to would have been the ideal. He got off on the power of it, knowing he could do that to a person, be everything to them in that moment. But if any other sub had begged him for touch in such a state, he would have denied them. Daryl had refused dozens of subs the same, and never cared much about the consequences.

But Rick was different. The thing was Rick was always going to be different; he'd known it from the start. The hours or days it would have taken Rick to pull himself back from a drop would have put the entire community at risk. But more than that, it would have been torture for Daryl as well. He hated to see Rick hurting. A deep hurt, not like the way he'd writhe under the sting of Daryl's palm.

The tension wouldn't dissipate, and only worsened the first time Daryl brought up recruitment. Rick didn't want him to go. Didn't think it was worth it when things were so uncertain back in Alexandria proper, but more than that, couldn't stand to let Daryl out of his sight when things between them were still so fragile. Daryl wanted space, felt useless hanging around Alexandria when he could be bringing more good people to relative safety. But Rick couldn't see it, couldn't see much past past the helpless panic he felt whenever Daryl walked away from him, or spent the night in Judy's nursery. The fear that Daryl wouldn't come back- of course he wouldn't, not if Rick _let_ him go- ate away at Rick constantly. They could fix this, he knew. They just needed _time._

Then, out with Morgan, Rick spotted the herd.

Whatever heartbreak and anxiety they both still felt, it was put on the backburner from the second Rick returned. They started planning. Decided without argument that Daryl would be the one to lead the herd away, because he was the best man for the job. The one Rick could trust without question. The one Rick knew would die before he failed.

Daryl resumed his place at Rick's right hand, nodded along when Rick gave out orders, because that was what they did. They supported each other without any hesitation, whenever it counted. Even when it left them anxious and unhinged. Even when it hurt.

Hours later, they walked into the armory together, and saw Carter pointing a gun in the face of a cowering Eugene.

"What the hell is going on?" Rick said. "What are you doing?"

"Taking this place back from you," Carter said, voice unsteady.

Rick took a step inside, looked to the other Alexandrians. "Is that what you were talking about in here?"

"That's what _he_ was talking about," Spencer said. Tobin refused to meet Rick's gaze, and the others shook their heads numbly. Not one came to Carter's defense, and that was all the confirmation Rick needed.

"See, I would have set up some lookouts," Rick said, inching further into the room. "That would have been the smart thing. You know, if I had-"

A fraction of a second, and Carter was kneeling on the ground, his gun in Rick's hand.

"You really think you're gonna take this community from us?" Rick seethed, gun pressed to the back of Carter's head. "From Glenn? From Michonne? From Daryl? From me?!"

Rick licked his lips. No one moved towards him. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

Carter released a shaky breath. "It was just me."

"What?" Rick snapped.

"It was- it was just me. Just- just kill me," Carter begged.

His words hung in the air, almost a challenge. Rick's eyes stayed on the back of the kneeling man's head, while Daryl's darted from Rick's face, to Carter's, and back.

Daryl took a half-step forward. "Rick," he said. Quiet, demanding.

Rick looked up at him, and felt the anger inside give way. The tension left him in a rush, and his shoulders slumped, muscles going lax.

"I'm good," Rick let out. He uncocked the gun and presented it to Daryl. "I'm good."

He could feel Daryl's eyes on him still, fiery and intense, pleased even.

Rick kept his focus on the man at his feet. "You can try to work with us. You can try to survive. Would you do that?"

Carter turned slowly, looking up at the constable with wide eyes.

"Yes," he whispered after a beat. "I could...I could do that."

"Good," Rick said. He grabbed Carter by one arm and pulled the man to his feet. "Then we have work to do."

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Daryl and Rick walked up the steps into their home late that evening, the sun had already sunk low and out of the sky. They'd spent the day planning, arguing quietly and mostly amicably about how- _if, though Rick would never admit it aloud_ \- they might move the herd out of its enclosure and far, far away from Alexandria.

Inside, Morgan sat in the living room, seemingly meditating. They could hear the gurgle of water that signified Michonne taking yet another shower upstairs, and walked by Judy's room to see Carl reading to her in a soft voice. Rick stopped outside the door, watched with a small smile as Daryl continued down the hall to his room- _their room_ \- and slipped inside.

"Hey," Rick said as he stepped in. He padded over to Judy and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, ruffled Carl's hair. "You want me to put her down?"

Carl shook his head and looked down at his sister fondly. "Nah, that's okay. I like doing it."

Rick smiled at him. "You're a good brother. Your mom would be proud."

Carl's eyes jerked up to meet his father's, a hesitant expression on his face. "You think so?"

"I know so," Rick assured him.

"You don't talk about mom, much," Carl said slowly.

"No," Rick replied, "For a while there, I didn't have the space in my mind for it. But now we're here," he gestured to the room around him, "And...I don't want to forget her. I don't want you to stop yourself from talking about her, because of me."

"I don't, Dad. Really," Carl said. "And I won't forget her, I know you won't either." He sighed, and carefully set Judy down in her crib. "It just feels like such a long time ago, now. A different life. It's hard to imagine her being here, still. With things the way they are. But...we're happy, you know? You and me and Judy, Michonne, Daryl… we're together. And pretty happy. And that's gotta be what counts, right?"

"Yeah," Rick agreed softly, "Of course it is."

"Then, you don't need to worry, Dad. I'm not going to forget. And she'd be happy. That we're happy."

"I know she would," Rick said. He curled his arm around Carl and pulled him into a hug. "Don't stay up too late, now."

"I won't," Carl promised with a grin, "And, Dad? I think Mom would be happy that _you're_ happy. I know I am."

Rick stopped inside the doorframe and watched Carl's face carefully. "What do you mean?"

Carl gave him an incredulous look. "Daryl stopped sleeping on the couch," he replied in explanation. "And that's a good thing, really. Daryl's been family for a while now. I always feel better when I know he's close, so, it's okay if you do too."

Rick gave his son a soft look. "You've really grown up, you know that?"

Carl scoffed. "You say that now. Won't be singing the same tune when you catch me reading comic books at 2 AM."

"Then don't let me catch you," Rick laughed. "Alright, goodnight son."

"'Night, Dad."

Rick turned and finished his journey down the hall, entering his room with a smile still on his face.

"What's got you so giddy?" Daryl asked. He placed the book he was reading- some western as thick as Rick's calf- down on the bedside table and stood up.

"Carl," Rick said. He toed off his boots, let his gun and holster fall the floor with a dull thud.

"What about him?"

"Well, he approves of us, apparently."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "Shit. He knows…?"

"He figured it out," Rick confirmed, "And apparently, he thinks it's a good thing. Reminded me that you're family, and that wanting you close isn't a bad thing."

Daryl sucked on his lower lip and nodded slowly. "Guess it was gonna happen eventually- people finding out. Hell, Carol's been giving me knowin' looks since the night it happened."

"You told her?"

"Nah. But you know that woman. She fuckin' reads minds, I swear. Keep catching her winkin' at me whenever you and me are in a room together."

Rick snorted and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Well as long as she isn't planning to steal you away from me…"

Daryl groaned, "Like she could. Woman knows she ain't nothin' close to my type. All that flirtin' back in the day was just to get under my skin. And yours too, m'thinkin'."

"It worked," Rick said. "But I still never would have done 't risk it."

"It's starting to look like it was worth the risk, though," Daryl replied quietly. "Today…"

"Shit. I knew you'd be pissed. I wasn't gonna kill him, not really, I-"

"Rick, I ain't mad," Daryl cut him off.

"You- you're not?"

"'Course I'm not. You had to put him in his place. I would have done the same. But when I asked you to back down, you did." Daryl placed two fingers under Rick's jaw, and tipped the man's head up to meet his eyes. "You did good, Rick. I ain't anything close to mad right now."

"Then...then what are you?" Rick asked, voice just shy of breathless.

Daryl's eyes flicked down to his own crotch, where his hard length was plainly visible through his cargos. Rick swallowed hard.

"I told you once that I'd never fuck you as punishment," Daryl said, voice taking that low, sultry timbre that always made Rick shudder with want. "But you were so good, today. Punishment's the last thing on my mind. You need something else entirely, don't you Rick? Do you know what I'm gonna give you?"

Rick looked up at him with blue eyes wide and disbelieving. "A...a reward?"

"Yeah," Daryl replied with a soft smile, before leaning down to claim Rick's lips. He kissed the man slowly, deeply, until he had to break away with a sharp gasp. "If you still want it, that is."

"I want it," Rick said quickly. "I want you. I do. I _swear_."

Daryl grinned at him. "Then get yourself naked, and get on that bad. Hands and knees."

Conscious of Daryl's eyes on him, Rick skimmed out of his clothing at record speed. He tripped out of his jeans, cursed, and when he looked up again Daryl was smiling.

"Eager?"

Rick shot him a no-nonsense glare that fell flat when a wave of worry hit him.

But Daryl, observant as ever, stepped forward when Rick's face fell.

"Nothin' wrong with eager," he said, one hand on Rick's hip. "I like seein' you like that. Gonna like it even better once I'm inside ya. That's what you want, right?"

"Yes," Rick whispered.

Daryl dipped his chin towards the bed, one eyebrow cocked. "Well, g'wan then."

Shakily, Rick crawled up the bed onto his hands and knees. A part of him still rejected outright such an obvious display of submission and vulnerability, but the knowledge that Daryl wanted this, Daryl was watching him, had Rick hard and wanting. From behind him, he heard clothing drop to the floor, two boots kicked to the side. A calloused hand hand curled around the inside of his thigh.

"Wider," Daryl said. His voice was lower now and honey-thick.

Rick spread his legs wider, just enough so that he could feel it. He clenched his eyes shut.

"Good," Daryl murmured, "That's real good, Rick."

A slick finger circled his entrance, and pressed inside when Rick couldn't but rock back against it.

"Fuck," Rick gasped. He let his head drop down, clenched his eyes shut.

"That's the idea," Daryl replied. Rick could hear the smile in his voice, and couldn't help but grin himself. It was hard to remember a time when sex had been like this for him- new, exciting, _fun_.

Scary, if he was being honest with himself.

One finger became two, and then three. When Rick began to buck back against Daryl's fist, Daryl clamped a hand over Rick's hip to stop him.

"Yeah, you're ready," Daryl murmured.

Rick heard the distinctive sound of skin on skin as Daryl slicked up his cock. He let his shoulders drop, pulled in slow breaths to try to counteract his rabbit-quick heart. He shuddered as his ribcage expanded.

"Rick?"

A hand was back on his hip, another rubbed slow circles across his back.

"Rick?"

He wanted this. He'd been _so sure_. He'd wanted it more than breathing. But, _but-_

" _Rick._ "

The ex-Sheriff jolted noticeably. "S'fine. I'm fine. Just," he shifted his weight, pressed his lower half closer to Daryl, "c'mon."

"You're not fine," Daryl said quietly. His hands left Rick, and the latter fought through another shiver at the feeling of abandonment.

Daryl walked forward on his knees and curled himself around Rick's body. He pressed his palm to Rick's chest. "You're scared. But there's no need to be. Not this time."

Rick shivered when Daryl pressed his lips to the crook of his neck. "Not scared. Just...nervous. Never done this before, ya know."

"I know," Daryl replied, smiling. "That's why m'thinkin' I should warm you up a bit, first."

He reached a hand under Rick's body, found his still-swollen cock and jacked him slowly. "I'm warm," Rick said.

"Not warm enough." Daryl padded around to the side of the bed and pulled a handful of objects out of a box that contained all the things he used to make Rick squirm. The ex-Sheriff couldn't see what the younger man selected, but he knew the feel of it when Daryl eased a cockring down his length, fixing it securely in place.

"Tell me your safeword."

"Red," Rick groaned, as a device he knew all too well worked its way inside of him, curving just right to hit his already abused prostate.

"And what do you say, if you need me to stop?"

"Red," Rick repeated.

"Good boy," Daryl growled. He flicked on the toy, and Rick's hips jerked forwards on instinct, cutting through damp air. The archer pressed in close from behind him and wrapped a slick hand around Rick's cock. And held it there.

"Daryl…" Rick moaned.

Daryl pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "Fuck my fist."

It was all the direction Rick needed. He rocked forwards into the tight grip of Daryl's sure fingers, breath catching in his throat at the way Daryl squeezed him just right.

Daryl pressed on his shoulders, and Rick dropped all the way forward, pliant and needy, ass in the air. A sharp tap to the inside of his thigh, and Rick spread his legs wider. Frog-legged and panting, he fucked into Daryl's fist, pressed forward into his perfect grip then jerking back when the toy inside him trilled right against his spot, massaged against it with the force of his movement.

It felt so perfect, so tight and slick, and the ring around the base of Rick's cock was making him far more sensitive than usual.

"Look at you," Daryl rasped from behind him, sounding just the right amount of out of breath, "Look how bad you need this."

Rick arched his back and moaned towards the ceiling, hips fucking forwards faster, harder.

"Need you. _Need you_."

"Yeah, I know you do," Daryl told him. "Like a bitch in heat. Such a good boy, fuckin' my hand when you're already stuffed so full. Bet you wanna come, huh?"

"Please, _please_."

Daryl reached down and turned the knob at the end of the plug to its highest setting, a steady hum filled the room, only to be overshadowed when Rick's body tensed, ass popping up into the air as he let out a high-pitched keen into the comforter. His balls pulled up tight to his body, and he jackhammered his cock into Daryl's slip grip, whining high and long, trying, _begging_ for release.

Only for Daryl to drop his cock so suddenly it left Rick reeling, sobbing into the bed with how much, how badly he wanted.

"Daryl, please. _Please_. I, I want you, I swear I want you so bad, just let me-"

"Not yet." Daryl punctuated the statement with a sharp slap to Rick's ass. The ex-Sheriff whined again, and it fleetingly occurred to Daryl that the man might not know how he sounded right now. Might be inching towards that floaty, out-of-body place that Daryl understood only by association. He turned off the vibrator, and pulled it gently from Rick's body. Then, he made up for it by draping himself over Rick's back and wrapping a strong arm around his chest.

"Shh, shhh," Daryl soothed against Rick's neck when the man let out a whimpering sob. "You're doin' so good. You're so good, Rick. Even better than I thought. You want me to fuck you now? You want me inside you?"

"Yes, yes, oh God, _please_ -"

"Shh, I know," Daryl murmured, and he was falling back onto his knees, taking his own cock in hand while with the other, he carefully rolled the cockring off Rick's rigid length. "Gonna give it to you. Gonna give it to you so hard. Make you feel so good."

Rick felt Daryl line himself up, moments from pressing inside. But this time, there was no fear. No anxiety or apprehension, just desperation. Daryl pressed one last kiss to Rick's shoulder.

"You can come once I'm inside ya, but not one second before. Understand?"

It took Rick a moment to answer. But when he did, it came out as a groan. " _Yes_."

"Put your hands on the headboard," Daryl demanded, and Rick did so on autopilot, wrapping his hands around the bars so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "You move them, I stop."

"I won't. Swear I won't. Just- _please_."

It was exactly what Daryl needed to hear. One moment, Rick felt himself breached for the first time. The next, Daryl had bottomed out inside of him in a single, harsh movement.

And Daryl hadn't managed to so much as thrust before Rick spilled all over the sheets.

"Oh, fuck," Daryl gasped when Rick's body tightened all around him, "Fuck, _Rick._ "

But the ex-Sheriff could only moan, eyes clenched shut as his cock twitched and pulsed untouched.

"Jesus Christ," Daryl groaned, but he began to move his hips in slow, deep thrusts that got harder with every passing second. He grabbed Rick's chin and forced the man's cheek into the bedspread. "Look at me."

Rick's eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but his pupils were like saucers, overtaking his cerulean eyes the way oil blots out the blue of the ocean. For a moment, Daryl lost pace, breath hitching at the sight.

The archer swallowed thickly. "I'm not stopping," he said. And then, in a gravel-deep voice. "But you don't want me to, huh? Nah, you're hooked now. Gonna be beggin' me every goddamn day to fill you up the way you need, fuckin' own you." He ground forwards, gripped Rick's hips hard enough to bruise. "You love my cock so much, don't ya Rick? All I had to do was slip inside your sweet ass, and you were comin' like some fuckin' teenager. Muckin' up my sheets 'cuz you just couldn't hold it any longer."

Daryl reached down and palmed over Rick's length, grinned when he found the man was still hard, overly sensitive.

" _Daryl_ …"

It was the first coherent word Rick had managed in some time, and Daryl was glad for the audience participation.

Leaning forward, Daryl sucked an angry mark onto Rick's shoulder. "I'm gonna make you come again," Daryl promised him. "You want that Rick? Wanna come on my cock like a good boy?"

Daryl thumbed over the crown of Rick's length, and the older man keened. "Ah. Please, _please_ …"

That was all Daryl could take. He pulled Rick up by the shoulder and slammed him face-first into the wall. A calloused fist wrapped its way around Rick's throat with none of the gentless he'd demonstrated jerking Rick's aching length. And when he snapped his hips forwards, then again, and _again_ , well, Rick couldn't really be faulted for waking the house with his scream.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Daryl gasped, pounding into him harder. "That's it. Fuckin' _take it_."

Rick could only moan. He shoved his hips back in an uneven rhythm, desperate for praise, crying from overstimulation. It was so much, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't _think_ , before-

"Oh, gonna come. Oh god, please say I can. Please, Daryl. Oh please. Please. _Please_ -"

"Yeah, my cock feel that good inside you?"

"Yes!"

"You my good boy? My good little bitch?"

"Yes, yes! _Yours."_

Daryl slammed into him hard. "Then come."

And Daryl would be fucked if there were any prettier sight than watching Rick, _his Rick_ , come on demand. The ex-Sheriff didn't make a sound. Not as back went ramrod straight, or as his cock swelled again and shot sticky streams of white onto the wall. His mouth opened in a silent scream, and Daryl used him hard. Fucked into him faster, viciously, until the tight, sweet heat of Rick's body was finally too much.

"Fuck, fuck yes," Daryl groaned. He jerked forwards, as deep inside Rick as he could be. " _Rick._ "

When Daryl began to come inside Rick, shooting off in hot spurts, the ex-Sheriff abruptly reanimated.

"Yes," Rick hissed, "Fuck. Thank you. _Thank you_."

And Daryl didn't teach him that, not those words in particular. But it does it for him just the same. He groaned, and sunk his teeth into Rick's shoulder, biting harder with every roll of Rick's hips. By the time he'd emptied himself completely, poured himself out into the man below him, Daryl was shaking.

For a few minutes afterwards, the only sound that filled the room was their panting. But eventually, Daryl realized that he was going to have to ease Rick back into reality, be the dominant all his past lovers had wanted him to be. He may not have been comfortable with it, not quite, but this was Rick. And he couldn't let him crumble.

So Daryl pulled out of him gently and eased the man onto his back.

"You were so good," Daryl whispered. "So fucking perfect for me, Rick. Everything I wanted."

Rick hummed a contented sound and curled into Daryl's body, burying his face in the younger man's neck.

And it may have still felt unnatural- especially when for Daryl, a good fuck was usually immediately followed up by a slap on the back and a ride home on his bike- but Daryl curled his arms around Rick's body and held the man close. He continued to praise him, softly, and didn't balk at the way Rick clung to him and nuzzled at his skin.

"So good. So good for me," Daryl told him, again and again until he began to feel Rick coming back. The tension in his body didn't return, but shifted. And even though he remained putty against Daryl's strong form, the archer could feel it when Rick finally blinked himself back to reality, and tilted his head up to look at the other man properly.

"Hey," Daryl murmured. "You alright?"

Rick licked over his lips before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm better than alright."

"Good."

"And…" Daryl hated to see the uncertainty in Rick's eyes. "It was good? It was what you wanted?"

"You were perfect," Daryl replied, both because it was true, and because he understood that Rick was still vulnerable right now, fragile in a way he hardly ever allowed himself to be. Grinning, he added, "All things considered, was probably the best sex I've had."

Rick bit his lip to keep from smiling like a loon. "Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," Daryl hummed, "First time I ever had sex with someone I care about. Made it better, I think. That it was about the both of us, not just me."

"It was good for me too," Rick said.

Daryl snorted. "Well I figured, with the way you came like a fuckin' freight train." Rick blushed and hid his face, but Daryl dutifully ignored it. "Oughta get some sleep."

The archer pushed at Rick's shoulder, urging him to roll onto his side, but Rick wouldn't budge.

"S'wrong?"

Blood sprang to Rick's cheeks. "If I move. It- it'll- your"

After a moment, Daryl grinned in understanding. "You liked it when I came inside you, huh? Like the way it feels now?"

Rick nodded, a little jerkily. "Makes it like you're still there. Inside me. Makin' me yours." The words were a quiet confession, one that Daryl didn't take lightly.

"Got just the thing for that, then," Daryl said. He pulled out the bedside drawer and plucked out one of the smaller toys they'd never bothered with. "Roll on your belly for me, alright?"

This time, Rick did as Daryl asked. Up on his knees, Daryl groaned in appreciation as he spread Rick's cheeks to take a look at his abused little hole, still clenching around nothing.

"Relax for me," Daryl instructed. And when he saw Rick's thighs sag open, he worked the little plug quickly inside. Rick let out a sharp whine, and looked back at Daryl over his shoulder to find the man slowly kneading at his ass. "You like that?" Daryl asked him. "Like the way it feels?"

The plug wasn't very large. Just big enough to feel, to know it was there without the incessant, pleasurable toll of stimulation. Rick's eyelids drooped.

"It's perfect," he mumbled into the pillow, hardly registering when Daryl chuckled from above him, then slipped behind to wrap himself protectively around Rick's body.

"Yeah," Daryl breathed, letting exhaustion take him. "It is."


End file.
